If Yesterday Never Ends
by YouHaveLovelyHair
Summary: Sequel to If Tomorrow Never Comes. Set after 5x6 and a few months after If Tomorrow. MI6 has a score to settle. And this time the team must save the ARC and themselves. Becker/Jess centred but a much more team-orientated story.
1. The Safest Place

**A/N This is the sequel to If Tomorrow Never Comes. Set after 5x6, we've had convergence and the whole world knows what's going on. MI6 are back and badder than ever and we will discover just how and why MI6 are involved in a situation which should have always been under the jurisdiction of MI5!**

**For now, we find out what happens on Becker and Jess's first date...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval - that's the copyright of ITV and Impossible Pictures. I do, however, own this story and any OCs I choose to create (and then kill off!). I also have Ben Mansfield locked in the boot of my car (but shush, don't tell anyone!) :D**

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><p>Becker parked the ARC SUV in the public car park a short distance from his favourite Chinese restaurant. Turning off the engine he leant back in the seat and gazed at the young woman sitting in the passenger seat, her auburn hair glowing under the harsh street lighting, a soft smile playing about her mouth. Jessica Parker. Technically, his girlfriend, although nothing like that had actually been discussed. They were, however, about to go on their first official date. As such, she had pulled out all the stops outfit-wise. She was wearing the most stunning dress he had ever seen, shimmering pale purple ("Lilac, Becker!" she had protested) with some kind of floaty chiffon thing over it and little puff sleeves. Short, as always, and he was having trouble resisting running his hand down her soft, smooth thighs. Her shoes were cherry pink with very square and very high heels, and her handbag matched exactly. Becker smiled. She was utterly gorgeous.<p>

Feeling his eyes on her, Jess looked up at him and returned his smile. Becker, her boyfriend, she supposed, although he had never said as much. Still, she could see this as their first date, couldn't she? She'd met his mother and made love with him in the elderly woman's orchard, so a date was definitely over due. He was taking her to his favourite restaurant, Chinese of course, and he had actually dressed up for the occasion - almost. He sported a non-black bomber jacket, albeit it navy blue, and a neatly pressed light blue shirt with silver cufflinks. Jess had giggled as she had bought the cufflinks the previous week - little silver tanks. Just so Becker! He had replaced his black combat trousers for a pair of navy blue chinos but still wore his black combat boots. She supposed a nice pair of brogues was just a stretch too far for him.

Becker hopped out of the SUV and jogged round to the passenger side to open the door for her, just as he always did. She knew better than to open the door herself; the first and last time she had done this he had stayed darkly moody for well over an hour. She accepted his hand and allowed him to help her out of the car. He pulled her against him and kissed her slowly, his lips moving over hers as if he had all the time in the world, and her body trembled delightfully against his. Lifting his head, he smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling, then looped her arm through his, leading her to the pavement. It wasn't far to the restaurant but there was now a chill in the air as autumn grew older and Jess shivered, making Becker shrug off his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She gazed up at him gratefully only to see a golden shimmering in the corner of her eye.

"Becker!" she cried out, diverting her attention to her right and the empty warehouse across the street.

What?" Becker spun around and saw what she was looking at. The warehouse was dark except for one window on the third floor which glowed and flickered with an eerily familiar golden hue. As they watched, stunned, a scream reverberated through the empty building, making Jess shudder and putting Becker instantly on alert. Grabbing her hand he turned and pulled her back to the SUV.

"Becker, what are you doing?" she asked urgently.

He wrenched open the boot of the car revealing metal case after metal case.

"What the -?" Jess was gob smacked. "Just how did you get this lot out of the ARC?" she demanded.

Becker grinned. "Being Head of Security has its advantages," he smirked.

He opened the first case containing two EMDs, the small ones. The second, larger case, contained one much larger EMD. The third case contained an anomaly locking device. Jess gaped and didn't know whether to be impressed or really annoyed that he drove around with this expensive and top secret hardware in the boot of his car. Becker handed her a small EMD, taking the large one for himself and slinging the locking device in a holdall over his shoulder.

"We've got no Comms and no black boxes, Becker," Jess reminded him.

"I know." He opened the car door for her. "Stay here, get on your mobile and call for backup." His tone was clipped and urgent.

She shook her head defiantly and he frowned. "Jess, please, that's an order!"

Without answering, she took her mobile from her handbag and stared at the screen. "No signal," she told him, shaking her head. "No bloody signal!"

"Fine!" Becker shoved her towards the car. "Stay here with the truck."

Jess resisted hard. "No, I'm coming with you!" she declared.

Becker stared at her and she stared him down just as determinedly. Becker sighed, knowing that each moment he wasted arguing with her could be another life lost.

"Whatever," he conceded reluctantly. "Just stay behind me!"

Jess nodded, threw her handbag into the truck, and they both moved out across the road to the warehouse.

They entered the warehouse slowly and quietly, Becker checking each corner with his EMD at the ready before he would allow Jess to proceed. He motioned her forward and they started up the staircase, Jess's shoes clattering on the metal. Becker stopped suddenly and pointed at her feet.

"Shoes!" he hissed, not knowing what they might be up against and wanting to remain as quiet as possible. Jess nodded, her eyes wide and frightened as she sat down on the cold stair to remove them. They started upwards again, much more quietly, with Jess glad that Becker couldn't see her wince with every step as her bare feet came into contact with the cold, hard platform.

They reached the third floor without incident but Becker checked each room before moving towards the anomaly. Pushing open the door to the last room with his EMD a horrifying sight met their eyes making Jess gasp and press her hand to her mouth to prevent her from retching. A body, the uniform marking him out as the warehouse security guard, had been torn to shreds in the middle of the room. One of his arms had been viciously ripped out and now lay at Becker's feet. The rest of the body was a bloody mess, made even more gory in the flickering light of the anomaly behind it. As Jess got a hold of herself, Becker hunkered down next to the body, examining it. He grimaced as he realised this was the source of the scream he and Jess had heard earlier.

"What did that?" Jess hissed from her position beside the open door. Her gun was raised, her face alarmed and her eyes watchful of the corridor beyond.

Becker gazed up at her, his face contorted with anger and a small amount of fear which made Jess even more nervous. "Looking at these wounds," he paused and swallowed. "Future predator."

Jess squeaked in fear and her eyes widened in panic. Becker jumped up and gripped her shoulders with his hands.

"Jess," he hissed. "It's fine. We'll get the anomaly locked and then I will locate and kill it." His eyes held hers until the terror in them subsided. "Once the anomaly is locked, no more can get through. And Matt and the team will be here soon. Ok?" He stopped and waited for her response. She remained silent. Concerned, he shook her slightly. "Jess, are you ok?" he repeated, worriedly.

Determinedly Jess nodded. "Yes, yes, lock the anomaly, kill the creature," she breathed to show she had been listening.

Becker dropped her arms and crossed the room to the anomaly. He removed the locking device from the holdall and within minutes the flickering orb was locked and safe.

Satisfied that the anomaly was dealt with Becker took Jess's hand and led her to the locking device.

"Sit!" he commanded and she looked blankly at him. "Stay here for me?" he asked her, more gently this time, realising that she was still afraid.

"This situation -" she began in a very small voice. "Its hopeless, isn't it?"

"Hopeless?" he repeated. "No, its not hopeless. Doubtful, but not hopeless."

He smiled, trying to reassure her. "Just remember to shoot anything that moves!"

She didn't respond in the way he had hoped but he didn't have time to dwell on that now. There was at least one future predator out there and he needed to deal with it.

He raised his EMD to shoulder height, traversed the room and moved out into the corridor. As he began to search the first room he heard a slight noise behind him. Instantly he swung around and trained his EMD on to the source of the sound, his finger tensing on the trigger. He almost shouted in surprise and hitched his gun up towards the ceiling at the last possible moment as the light from his weapon picked out a person in the darkness.

"Jessica!" he hissed furiously. "I nearly shot you! What the hell are you doing?"

Jess moved forward and lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm not staying there in that room all by myself," she told him quietly.

"What? Jess, I need to know that you're safe!" he cried as quietly as he could.

Jess smiled at him. "The safest place in this warehouse is right behind you. I'm coming with you." The expression on her face, concentrated and determined, told him that he'd better not argue.

"Fine!" he agreed exasperated. "But stay close!"

Together, they cleared all the rooms on the third floor and then progressed to the fourth and top floor. Beneath them, on the ground floor, emerging from the darkness, clicking like a bat and leaping from wall to wall, the grotesque future predator stalked its prey. It stopped momentarily at the foot of the stairs and lowered it head, knocking something from the step to the concrete floor below with a soft clatter. Raising its skull to the air it appeared to sniff as if searching for a scent, before leaping up the staircase towards the top floor of the warehouse. Below it, on the concrete floor, lay a cherry pink square heeled shoe.

Becker was finishing his sweep of the fourth floor when he heard it. The eerie clicking in the darkness, signalling the presence of a future predator. He tensed and felt Jess's hand touch his back. He knew she'd heard it too. He forced himself not to look at her, knowing her face would distract him and he needed to pinpoint the exact location of the predator. He almost heard her open her mouth to speak and, without thinking, he held up his hand to silence her. Listening intently he heard the clicking sound again, closer this time, and Jess pressed herself more firmly against his back. It was coming, stalking them, and he had no idea if he could stop it before one of them was killed. He backed them away from the stairwell towards the wall. At least that way it reduced the number of directions he had to defend.

Then he saw it, flitting across the ceiling, just a blur of motion. He fired his EMD and missed, badly. Cursing, he pushed Jess towards one of the empty rooms, hoping to trap her in there and make only himself the prey. He could hear the clicking behind him, rising and falling in pitch, like the predator was asking questions and receiving answers. It made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and, pushing Jess to the floor, ignoring her accompanying scream, he whirled round to face it. The light on his EMD picked it out in the darkness, its ugly disfigured face staring straight at him. Or at least it would have been if it had had eyes. He fired his EMD, the blue light streaking towards the predator, just as it leapt at him, making contact and barrelling him into the room beyond, the door slamming shut behind them.

Winded, his EMD knocked from his hands, Becker pushed himself up off the floor, groping for his weapon. The predator watched him from the corner of the ceiling, clicking to itself each time he moved to re-calibrate his location. Becker's fingers curled around the barrel of the EMD just as the predator flew at him again. It was too fast and Becker's EMD missed its target again. He was rewarded with a slash to his left upper arm as the predator raked its claws over his skin. He yelled in pain and the predator's clicks now sounded like laughing.

Re-positioning the EMD, Becker was certain he was going to die. He only hoped Matt got here soon and rescued Jess. Her torn apart body flashed through his mind, her lilac dress all bloodied, her beautiful blue eyes dead and staring. He grimaced, shaking his head to rid himself of the unpalatable image. Damn it - where the hell was Matt?

Becker knelt on one knee, scanning the room for the predator. It lingered in the shadows watching him, clicking menacingly. As he locked onto it he fired again and it leapt at him, moving like lightning, knocking the EMD from his hand too far for him to reach it. Becker lay on his back, knowing it was almost over.

The predator moved forwards slowly this time, as if daring him to challenge it. It was toying with him, knowing he had no hope of escape but, instead of scaring him as it no doubt intended, the effect on Becker was to calm him down. He perceived the predator's movement as if in slow motion, giving him the time to react and respond. Becker pulled his leg back, allowing his hand to reach his boot from which he withdrew his favourite serrated knife. It had a thick, heavy, black hilt, comfortable in his hand, and a wide blade with an exceptionally sharp point. He lay there, knife in hand, waiting for the predator's attack. If he was going out, he was sure as hell going to attempt to take the predator with him. If he remained on his back, he hoped the predator would launch a frontal attack. And while it was on top of him, ripping his guts out, he would shove the blade of his knife as deep as he could into its chest. He grinned. He had a plan. Not much of one, but a plan nonetheless.

The predator approached, its clicking ceasing as it no longer needed to verify his position. Becker briefly thought the silence was more terrifying than the clicking sound and then it launched at him. Feeling its sharp claws rake his clothes, Becker tensed, his fingers clasped around the hilt of the knife so hard his knuckles were white. The muscles in his bicep and forearm flexed as he prepared to thrust the knife upwards into the predator's body. His mind was empty, prepared to die.

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><p>Jess sat out in the corridor where Becker had pushed her moments before. She was shaking, tears drizzling her mascara down her cheeks, gripping her EMD with trembling fingers. She leant against the wall, panicking. Becker. Future predator. In the next room, fighting to the death. And it would be Becker's death for sure. And then she would be next. Well, that was ok. She didn't want to exist without him anyway.<p>

She heard crashes from the room followed by EMD blasts and predator claws scraping on walls and ceilings. Then the room went quiet. Becker must surely be dead. While, here she was, hiding like a frightened little girl. Well, after all she had seen and done over the last few years, she was not that person, that skittish teenage girl, hiding from a Dracorex. She had taken on a terrorist and a future predator in the last few months. She stood, her mind resolved to go into that room with the hope that Becker was still alive, and do her best to protect him.

Panting heavily, her shoulders heaving with each breath, she edged her way along the wall to the closed door of the room. There was silence from the room and Jess feared the worst. Her fear for Becker spurred her on and, EMD raised, she lifted her leg and brought her foot crashing down onto the door, forcing it open with a loud boom. As she swung her EMD into the room, the light picked up Becker lying on his back, the predator looming over him, ready for the kill. There was a roar, whether it was from Becker or the predator Jess wasn't sure, but she opened fire anyway. She only had a small EMD so she emptied the power pack into the predator, knocking it off Becker just as his arm thrust upwards making contact with the predator's side.

The predator twitched twice before lying stiff and still about two feet from Becker. Wrenching his eyes from the creature, now widened in shock that he was still alive, Becker turned his attention to the door. Jess stood in the doorway, her EMD shaking wildly in her hands, her mouth forming his name with no sound coming out. Grinning with relief Becker let his head fall to the floor, the back of his skull thudding on the concrete. Jess recovered and, calling his name, ran towards him, throwing herself over his body and hugging him fiercely. He entangled one hand in her hair, the other wrapping round her waist and squeezing hard.

"Jessica," he murmured in wonder as he held her against him.

Then he stiffened, his senses still on alert. His peripheral vision had caught a movement from beyond the doorway and his ears registered a tiny scraping sound in the corridor. Rolling, he pulled Jess over him, placing himself between her and the doorway. He grabbed the EMD from her hand, noticing the empty power pack, but pointing it at the door anyway.

A light appeared in the doorway, blinding him, but he just made out the muzzle of another EMD.

"Becker!" Abby's voice cried and the light was lowered.

Becker dropped the EMD, hearing it clatter noisily on the floor and noticing the slight tremor in his hand. He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to cover it up.

"Its about time you showed up!" he groaned exhausted.

Abby chuckled. "Why? It looks like you didn't need us!" She looked around the room. "Where's Jess?"

Jess waved her arm from her position behind Becker, being unable to do anything else as she was pretty much trapped by the soldier's body.

Abby tapped her earpiece. "Matt, Jess and Becker accounted for. And one dead predator." She grinned at something Matt said in her ear.

"Matt says, how's the date going - have you got to second base yet?"

Becker groaned and rolled his eyes before moving slightly to free Jess from behind him. She immediately wiggled over him, desperate to get away from the predator. Alive or dead, she really didn't like being so close to the damn thing.

Becker took the opportunity to clutch her to him. He stroked her face gently with his rough fingers.

"You saved my life," he whispered, his eyes warm with love.

"Again," she told him pointedly. "I saved your life, again!"

He chuckled and entwined his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth to his and kissing her, a passionate affirmation that they were, indeed, both still alive.

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><p>Somewhere, deep in the bowels of MI6, a tech was hunched over his computer, hundreds of lines of code flickering over the screen. Clicking off the garishly bright desk lamp, he rubbed his tired blue eyes and took a long swig of coffee, grimacing as he realised it was two hours cold. He stood, picking up his red mug to refresh the drink, when the computer code paused and blinked at him. He stopped dead and then sat back down in his chair with a thump. No way. After all these months of searching, the hours and hours of code he had trawled through, there it was. Blinking away on his screen. The information his boss was looking for. The tech smiled. Amidst all the lines of code originating from the MI6 mainframe, this short line blinking at him did not belong. It had not originated from MI6. It was false. The information contained in this line of code was false. The tech's smile became an ear to ear grin. That was his promotion right there.<p>

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><p><strong>AN Go badass Becker! Hand to hand combat with a future predator! :D**

**And what on earth are MI6 up to? What has the tech discovered?**

**Please review - you know how much I love them (and I have a lot to live up to so I need to know I'm on the right track!) :D :D :D :D :D**


	2. The Electronic Incursion

**A/N Wow - thank you to everyone who has already put this on their alerts/favourites lists! And to those who reviewed the last chapter - you are all brilliant! :D**

**Please bear with this chapter - it is mostly scene setting for the next lot of action. Its mostly Becker and Jess again (from Jess's POV) but I hope you enjoy it.**

**BTW I was re-watching series 3 last night and nearly fell off the sofa during the first telephone call between Lester and Christine Johnson - he tells her he thought she was "running the MI6 station in Jamaica"! What? MI6 back as early as series 3? I needed another rum and coke after that! :D :D :D :D :D**

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><p>Jessica Parker sat in her big red chair at the ADD, a smooth piece of Galaxy chocolate slowing melting on her tongue. She was running a diagnostic on the new security measures that Lester had insisted upon and Becker had begun implementing over the past few months. Security measures that had something to do with an indiscriminate piece of paper that Lester had waved furiously in Becker's face one day in his office. No-one else knew what the paper contained, but the new security protocols were stringent and far-reaching to the extreme. From motion detectors and CCTV in the ventilation system to additional firewalls across the entire ARC computer systems and finally panic alarms for the core team and all security section leaders, including Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Collier. The panic alarms were linked to the ADD, setting off an loud intermittent blast when pressed. They were to be kept on the person at all times, on or off duty, and only activated in the event of a dire emergency. The down side was the panic alarms were not as sophisticated as the black boxes; the alarm only indicated an ID tag and not a location, an inherent flaw in Jess's opinion. It was Becker's opinion, however, that they would only ever be needed inside the ARC.<p>

Jess leant back in her chair thinking about Becker and his attempts to re-adjust to normality since the "MI6 Incident", as it was referred to. It had taken a while but he was doing much better now. She smiled as she remembered his volatile first week back. That was when Lester had shown him this now infamous piece of paper and Becker had been as jumpy as hell or, as Sergeant Collier had remarked, like the Devil on speed. The soldiers had borne the brunt of it, being drilled to a permanent state of exhaustion, and then being forced to assist in the repairs to the ARC as Becker was unhappy with the rate of progress. Then Lt Carter and Sgt Collier and the newly promoted Sgt Hicks were forced to memorize blueprints of the ARC ventilation systems and crawl spaces in the hope that, should anything like this ever happen again, "one of them would have the brain power to get out of sight and mount a rescue!" Her smile widened as she remembered Becker's exasperated tirade. Becker had spent many hours berating the security team on their ability to secure the ARC, or lack thereof.

Then there had been Dr Patricia Bedford, the newest member of the ARC staff. For all of a week, anyway. Dr Bedford was a Government psychiatrist brought in at Lester's request to assist Becker's recovery from his trauma. It only served to infuriate the soldier who, in his opinion, only required the services of a shrink when he was, in his own words, "sat in a corner, drooling and muttering gibberish to himself!" However, Lester would brook no argument and Becker was forced to sit in an office with Dr Bedford for an hour a day, reliving his experiences. It all culminated on day seven when Dr Bedford fled the ARC, tears streaming down her face, refusing to ever, EVER come back. Becker sauntered out of the office behind her and watched her exit with an extremely smug smile on his face.

He was ordered into Lester's office with demands to explain just exactly what had transpired during his session with the psychiatrist. Becker had shrugged.

"I just informed her of the hundred different ways I could kill someone with my bare hands and asked if perhaps she would care to be the subject of a short demonstration." Becker had paused then added. "Perhaps I was a little too graphic…"

"Captain Becker!" Lester had shouted. "She was here for your benefit! You should be grateful to accept the help offered to you. Perhaps I should have you committed - your behaviour is positively unhinged!"

"I fail to see how reliving the experience over and over and over again is actually helping!" Becker had snarled back in return.

Lester had run his hand through his hair and sneered at Becker. "Well, I shall just have to get another one," he informed the Captain. "And, this time, you will participate fully until you are given a clean bill of health."

"Over my dead body!" Becker had yelled.

Lester had raised one sardonic eyebrow and muttered, "That can be arranged, Captain - again."

"Fine!" Becker had stormed out of Lester's office, without waiting for a dismissal, marched up to his desk and retrieved his beloved shotgun from the locked drawer on the left. Holding it up above his head and waving it at Lester he strode across the Ops Room declaring "I'm going to have a little fun with your car until you change your mind!"

Becker was already in the lift on his way down to the car park before the words registered with Lester and he had emerged from his office, the tiniest show of panic flickering across his face, muttering "No! Not my Jag!"

Lester had followed Becker down to the car park where he had found the soldier, armed and gun raised, muzzle pointed at the windscreen of the Jaguar.

Lester had stared at his Head of Security impassively and asked:

"And this behaviour is not unhinged because -?"

Becker had looked at his boss, his face sulky and petulant. "I don't need a psychiatrist, Lester!" he had hissed, his teeth grinding together harshly. "I just need to get on with my job!"

Reluctant to let anything happen to his car, Lester acquiesced. He held his hands up and with a flick of his head declared: "Fine! Fine! But you are out of active field duty for at least a month - during which time I want all the security measures in place and functioning."

Becker had lowered his shotgun, accepting Lester's terms. Lester turned to walk back to his office, then paused.

"And if there's even the slightest scratch on my car, I will personally feed you to my mammoth," he remarked dryly and Becker twisted a smile at his boss's retreating back.

Becker had calmed down somewhat since then. But he and Jess had hardly had any alone time at all, in between all the anomalies and new security protocols, hence the very overdue and ill-fated date the other night. And there had been no repeat yet of what had transpired between them in Mrs Becker's orchard, much to Jess's disappointment. Becker had spent every waking moment at the ARC, always working, barely sleeping. Jess had calculated from his logged in hours that he had had no more than two hours sleep per night in the last month. He had turned himself into a machine and she was convinced it was only because he felt he had something to prove. To Lester, to the team, or to his men, Jess wasn't sure. But there was one thing she was sure of - Captain Becker needed to give himself some respite before he burnt himself out.

Her attention was distracted by a bleep from the ADD. Blinking her eyes rapidly to regain her focus, she tapped her keyboard and located the source of the noise. She had programmed the ADD to alert her to news stories regarding New Dawn or Prospero just in case they contained any information useful to the ARC team. She had never received a hit, until now. The presenter of the lunchtime news was reporting on a story relating to Prospero.

"_There were reports of a break in at Prospero Industries last night, the offices of the late entrepreneur Philip Burton. The renowned scientist, who died just months before being honoured with a Knighthood by the Queen, was a leader in the field of technological advancement and developed the world's first Room Temperature Superconductor._

_A Prospero spokesperson has recently confirmed that the break in did indeed take place but stresses that there was no damage done to any of their instruments nor was anything stolen. He stated the most likely culprits were bored adolescents and that Prospero Industries was continuing its business as normal._

_In other news…"_

Jess paused the screen and rocked in her chair. What did this mean? Who would break into Prospero? Why did her gut tell her it was important? She didn't have time to dwell on it as the lines of code on her other screen, the security diagnostic, suddenly flashed in the corner of her eye.

"Becker!" she called over her shoulder and the soldier appeared at her side almost instantly having been seated at his desk only a few yards away.

He curled his arm around the back of her chair and leaned his head down level with hers, making her heart flutter at his proximity.

"What do you have, Jess?" he asked in a low voice, glancing at her profile briefly.

"Look at this code," she said, pointing at the endless lines of numbers on her screen.

Becker shook his head, mystified. "In English, Jess," he murmured in her ear, making her shiver.

She focused on the screen instead of him. "There are lines of code missing, Becker. Someone has downloaded these files and deleted others. That's just not possible!" she cried, frustrated.

Becker frowned. Were the new protocols not working? As part of his new security measures, all file downloads were automatically logged by the ADD by user login and terminal location so it could be tracked if necessary. Any unauthorised downloads should have triggered an alarm.

"Why didn't the ADD detect it and alert us at the time?" he demanded.

Jess shook her head. "We've only had time to add the new protocols to the New ARC files. This code is from the old ARC archives." She looked at Becker and he gazed blankly back at her. She sighed. "The files downloaded and deleted are from before the ARC was shut down - before Danny, Abby and Connor were lost in the past -" She stopped, letting her words sink in to the soldier's brain.

"What the hell?" he demanded angrily. "What would anyone want with those?"

Jess shrugged. "I only just caught it because I was running a diagnostic on the archives to check their compatibility with the new security measures. They were next on my list," she added ruefully.

Becker ran his hand through his hair. "Can you tell who downloaded them?" he asked, slowly.

Jess bit her lip. "I can try. I could use some help though." She gazed at the lines and lines of code flashing across the screen and sighed heavily.

Becker tapped his earpiece. "Connor, your assistance is required at the ADD," he stated clearly.

"On my way, mate," came Connor's testy reply. He had also had little sleep over the past few weeks, having been bullied by Becker into testing each new security measure to within an inch of its life to prevent any glitches.

Becker stood upright, his hand still on the back of Jess's chair, staring at the offending screen on the ADD, his brows furrowed. Jess could see his mind working behind his eyes, trying to imagine every possible threat that could be posed by the loss of these files. Then Jess remembered the news report and re-played it for the soldier. He frown deepened, his eyes narrowing under his dark brows, his lips pursed.

"Something's going on here, Jess, and its not good," he muttered and absently pressed a brief kiss to the top of her head.

Jess started in surprise. In all the time he'd been back at the ARC he had never let his affection for her show in the main Ops Room. Despite their closeness since the orchard he had continued to keep her at arms length at work. She turned to look at him but he was already halfway across the room, heading for the armoury.

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><p>Commander Fred Thompson had worked at MI6 for ten years. He loved his job and thrived in the high pressured environment. He was patriotic, almost to the extreme, and saw the security services as Britain's first and last line of defence against foreign intrusion. Short and stocky, which led to him often being underestimated by his enemies, he was well respected by his peers and was renowned as a formidable adversary in military intelligence circles. He hated to be bested almost as much as he hated MI6 to be brought into disrepute. As such, Sir John Sawers had personally requested he investigate the Commander Rider - Omar Kabir - Captain Becker triangle and exonerate MI6 from any wrongdoing. However, things had not been going so well. So far it appeared that Commander Rider had indeed been a double agent, working for both MI6 and the terrorist, and had been instrumental in the false allegations against the redoubtable Captain Becker. Rider had also been responsible for the brutal murder of his PA, Penny Harper, an exemplary MI6 employee and former soldier.<p>

Thompson shook his head, ran a frustrated hand through his dark brown hair and leaned back in his chair. He had orchestrated the electronic break ins at both the ARC and Prospero Industries and had been intrigued by the information they had yielded. It was not enough yet to convince Sawers or anyone else that MI6 needed to have a greater role in both of these organisations. He still needed to dig a little deeper.

His reverie was interrupted by one of the technicians from downstairs. He had a small army of technical nerds working on, not only the theft of electronic files, but also a painstaking analysis of the evidence used to release Captain Becker from his incarceration at Paddington Green Police Station. He looked at the young dishevelled man in front of him, not knowing, nor really caring for, his name nor which team of nerds he belonged to.

"What?" Thompson demanded, irritably.

"I've found it, sir!" cried the tech, excitedly. "The proof you were looking for!"

The tech proudly placed a computer printout on the Commander's desk. Thompson regarded it, intrigued. His smile began as a small twitch at the corners of his mouth and ended as a huge grin. This was it, this was the smoking gun. James Lester was finished and the ARC was theirs.

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><p><strong>AN So, what will be Becker's next move? And what is Commander Thompson planning for our darling Lester?**

**Something bad is coming...(and I hope some reviews are too! Please?) :D :D :D :D :D**


	3. The Frozen Anomaly

**Hello! I'm back! Apologies to everyone for not updating for such a very long time. I had the joy of my tax return (yuck!) and an attempt at writing Memily when all my brain wanted to do was write Jecker making for a very severe case of writers block!** **I hope what I have finally come up with was worth the wait and I thank you for your patience!**

**Warning - there is absolutely no Jecker in this chapter whatsoever! There is a reasonable attempt at some Memily - so please let me know what you think! Particularly I need to know if I've kept them in character! :D**

**Thanks again for all your favourites, story alerts and reviews for the last two chapters! And to all those who have added to alerts but not reviewed - I really would love to hear what you think of the story! :D**

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><p>Matt was in a very bad mood. It was clear to him that Becker was up to something. What annoyed him was how the soldier had failed to keep him informed. He was Team Leader, after all, and technically Becker's boss, and, whilst he accepted that internal ARC security was Becker's call, he did expect the courtesy of being kept in the loop.<p>

And now they were on their way to an anomaly with a severely depleted team - and he didn't even know why! He glanced briefly at Emily, sat in the passenger seat to his left, and then at Abby sat behind him in the pick-up truck. Just the three of them - no Becker, no Connor. At least he had insisted upon Jess resuming her role as FCO. What the hell was so important that Becker needed both techs working on it, to the detriment of the field team? Becker himself, Matt understood; the soldier had been grounded by Lester, the two men coming to loggerheads over Lester's Jag and a loaded shotgun. Matt smiled and had to admire the younger man's direct style in getting results. However, Becker had deliberately kept his three senior security staff - Carter, Collier and Hicks - behind at the ARC without any explanation. So, not only were they entering a dangerous situation already two men down, they were being backed up by a relatively rookie security team.

Matt sighed, his eyes staring through the dark ahead of him, black tarmac and white lines flickering under the headlights. He just hoped they all made it back alive.

"Matt, take the next right and then the second left," Jess's voice rang out clearly over the Comms.

"Copy that, Jess," Matt turned the SUV as instructed, watching the headlights of the truck behind flashing in his rear view mirror, indicating they were still following.

The darkness of the unlit road was suddenly illuminated by the garish orange glow of residential street lights. Matt pounded the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration - he really didn't want to deal with "Joe Public" right now! Emily reached over, gently placing a hand on his knee and squeezing. His momentary anger soothed by her action, Matt spoke again into the Comms.

"How much further, Jess?" he demanded, his tone clipped but he managed to keep the testiness and anxiety from his voice.

"Next left," came the calm reply. "Then it should be 500 yards on your left."

Then Jess giggled, a short, sweet sound that usually made Matt smile and Becker lose concentration, but tonight it only served to increase Matt's irritation.

"Focus, Jess!" he snapped.

"Sorry," she replied. He could hear her smothering another giggle. "But the anomaly is at an ice rink."

Matt heard Connor's outright laughter and Jess's "shush" as she leaned over and swatted the tech's arm. Matt grimaced and Abby chuckled behind him - whether in response to their destination or her fiance's mirth, Matt couldn't tell. He could, however, feel Emily's eyes on him and he turned to face her as he parked the car.

"What's an ice rink?" she asked, curiously.

Matt shook his head in fond exasperation but he managed a wry smile. "Something which I will not enjoy - but you're going to love, I can tell."

On the pavement next to the car Emily grinned at the Irishman and charged her EMD. Abby, already stood at the entrance to the Leisure Centre with the five man security team, shouted down to the couple.

"Get a move on! Figure skating dinosaurs await!"

"Doors are unlocked, Abby," Jess said in her ear. "You're good to go."

Matt sent the soldiers to perform a sweep of the building whilst he, Emily and Abby headed straight for the ice rink. They passed a bar and a food court before climbing a short flight of stairs leading to the ice rink itself. Abby flicked on the lights as they rounded a corner and they were met by rows upon rows of ice skates for hire and Emily gasped.

"Ice skates!" she exclaimed and turned wide brown eyes on Matt. "You have a frozen lake indoors? How is that even possible - its not cold enough outside to freeze!"

Matt smiled at her barely disguised excitement.

"Same technology as the fridge freezer," he told her and winked. "Only a lot bigger!"

Abby grinned, also enjoying Emily's astonishment. She patted Matt's back before striding forward on her own leaving Emily gazing wistfully at the skates. Matt moved closer behind the Victorian woman and rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment.

"What?" he asked softly.

Emily smiled. "I just remembered how very much I enjoyed skating. During the winter of 1866 the Serpentine in Regent's Park froze over and I spent many an hour skating there. My husband disapproved of course -" she broke off and sighed.

Matt lifted his head from her shoulder and Emily shook herself slightly before glancing at the Team Leader with a determined look on her face.

"Come on," she said tersely. "We have work to do."

She strode away briskly in the same direction as Abby and Matt watched the stubborn set of her shoulders and smirked before charging his EMD and jogging after her.

He found Abby and Emily at the edge of the ice rink admiring how the golden flicker of the anomaly reflected and sparkled in the crisp whiteness of the ice. It truly was a beautiful sight, reminding Emily of Christmas with its cold twinkling.

"Any sign of an incursion?" Matt asked, making both women jump.

"Not yet," replied Abby when she had collected herself.

As if on cue, they heard the rumbling moan of a creature echoing round the Leisure Centre. The trio glanced at each other - time to go to work.

"Stay together," Matt ordered Abby and Emily and sent them round the outside of the rink whilst he gingerly stepped onto the ice itself heading for the anomaly.

"What's happening Matt?" Jess asked in his ear and he remembered that she was blind as there was no CCTV. He tapped his earpiece to open communications.

"We've found the anomaly Jess. There has been an incursion - not sure what yet though. I'll let you know in a minute."

His eyes flicked to the two women every so often, just to reassure himself they were ok, as he carefully placed one foot in front of the other, creeping closer and closer to the anomaly. Above him, he saw the security team appear on the ring of spectator seating that encircled the ice rink. He acknowledged them with a short salute and Corporal Norton returned the gesture. The security staff began checking the seating area for any signs of creature attack so Matt turned his attention back to the anomaly.

"Abby, Emily - anything?" he asked over the Comms and glanced over at them. Both women shook their heads, but they all heard the low groan again - the unmistakeable sound of an incursion.

EMD raised, Matt carefully rounded the side of the anomaly and observed the source of the sound. He lowered his weapon, realising with relief that this dinosaur was not carnivorous.

"Jess, I have a visual on the creature. Don't think its carnivorous but I'm sending a picture to your mobile. Get Connor to identify it - if he's not too busy, that is." He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his tone and almost heard Jess frown in his earpiece.

Grinning as they saw the creature, Abby and Emily joined Matt, clutching at each other as they slipped and slid precariously over the ice.

It was a large creature, a little bit like an armadillo. It looked pitiful there on the ice, its legs had slid out from under it and it was struggling against its weight to regain its footing. Abby cautiously moved closer towards it making shushing sounds and her hands outstretched.

"Poor baby," she cooed, ignoring Matt's grimace.

Connor's voice resounded through the earpieces and Abby cocked her head, enjoying the sound of her fiance's accent in her ear.

"Matt, how large is the creature?" he enquired.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "About the size and shape of a old VW beetle," he replied with a smirk.

"Yep, its about the same weight as one too!" confirmed Connor. "It's a Glyptodon, Pleistocene epoch making it about 2 million years old. Herbivore, so its not gonna eat yer!" Matt heard the scientist chuckle. "Don't envy you trying to shift it off the ice though!"

"Yeah, thanks for that, mate," Matt said dryly shaking his head. The Team Leader looked at Abby and Emily. "Any ideas?" he asked with a shrug.

"Well, I suggest we don't EMD it," said Abby with a grin. "An unconscious VW Beetle will be a nightmare to move!"

"What's a VW Beetle?" asked Emily, frowning, feeling that she was shut out of the joke. Matt smiled at her, his eyes twinkling affectionately and Emily was reassured, without him saying anything, that he would not leave her in ignorance for long.

All three moved cautiously towards the creature as the security team made their way down from the upper seating. Matt heard their boots crunching across the ice, their black uniforms a stark contrast to the pristine white surface. The creature was surrounded and its flight instinct kicked in. It struggled harder against the ice, its large feet gouging out great cavities under it making its efforts completely insignificant. It groaned and moaned as it wrestled with its feet and its fear.

"Easy," warned Matt softly, knowing that even if the creature wasn't carnivorous it could still inflict some serious damage to the team just by its sheer size and weight. A panicked creature was unpredictable and he didn't want anyone in the way if this thing suddenly became mobile.

He stared at the Glyptodon, then glanced at the anomaly behind him. How the hell were they going to get this thing all the way over there from a standing start? It might be the size and shape of a VW Beetle, but they couldn't just take off the handbrake and jump start the damn thing! He sighed heavily, knowing there was only one thing for it. He looked at his team.

"Everyone choose a piece of dinosaur - and push!" he ordered with a shrug.

Shouldering their EMDs, the security team did as directed, mostly at the rear of the animal. Emily placed her hands on one side of the Glyptodon and Matt chose the other. Abby decided her time would be better served keeping the creature calm and so remained in its eyesight, soothing it gently.

"One, two, three - push!" Matt instructed and they all strained against the hefty herbivore. And nothing happened. "Again!" Matt exclaimed but again nothing happened except the creature scrabbled its feet in panic causing Emily to jump out of the way in alarm.

"Anyone got a crane?" Matt joked with a smirk and Corporal Norton shook his head with a smile.

"Okay, we're going to go again. Only this time, I'm going to push its legs," said Matt, confident this time his plan would work. He lowered his body, bracing his shoulder against the creature's massive hind leg. "On three. One, two, three - push!"

With loud grunts and groans the security team doubled their efforts, Emily pushed on her leg and Matt gave it everything he had. The Glyptodon moved, so they pushed harder and it slid again, scrabbling for its footing frantically. It was almost up when its balance gave way again and it teetered on the edge of its foot for a moment, like a figure skater on the edge of their steel blade, before toppling over towards the Team Leader whose shoulder was still wedged under its thigh.

"Matt!" Emily shouted, horrified pushing past the security team and grabbing hold of Matt's arm.

The Glyptodon crashed to the ice on its side, screaming in fear and pain, as Emily frantically pulled Matt clear, sliding him across the ice to safety. She lost her footing too and collapsed on top of him, calling his name as he clutched his arms around her. Realising after a few moments that neither of them had been crushed, Emily pulled away from Matt and sat up, hitting him furiously on his arms and chest.

"Matt! You scared the living daylights out of me!" she admonished harshly.

Matt grinned up at her, still lying on his back on the ice. "Heck, I scared the living daylights out of myself!" he declared. Emily stopped hitting him as he pulled her back down to him and kissed her gently on the mouth.

"Thanks," he murmured against her lips and Emily smiled.

Abby ran to the Glyptodon and stroked its face, her eyes filling with tears.

"Its okay, baby," she whispered. "We'll get you home soon, I promise." She stroked and soothed it for a few minutes until its fearful cries subsided.

Matt and Emily joined her, holding hands to steady each other on the ice.

"You know, this might work to our advantage," mused Matt quietly.

Both women stared at him.

"What?" demanded Abby. "How can a frightened, two tonne herbivore that can't stand up be to our advantage?"

"It will slide along the ice easier now its not on its feet. It can't fight so hard." Matt told her. "If we get away from its feet, get behind it and push again, we should be able to build up enough momentum to shove it back through the anomaly."

Emily was already behind the creature, positioning the security team, when Abby opened her mouth to protest at the shoving part. Then she closed it again. As long as the Glyptodon was returned through the anomaly alive and unharmed then did it really matter how it got there? She sighed and took up her position in the centre of the creature's back.

They all shoved hard and were rewarded with a foot of movement. They still had another six feet to go so they heaved again, their shoes and boots slipping on the ice as they tried to brace themselves against the Glyptodon's weight.

"Just another three feet," Matt advised everyone, the strain evident in his voice. "Push!"

One final push, with everyone grunting and roaring with effort, and the Glyptodon made it home.

"Lock the anomaly," panted Matt and Corporal Norton retrieved the locking device and reduced the flickering light to a hard golden orb.

"Jess, we've returned the creature and locked the anomaly," Abby informed the Field Co-Ordinator. "Tell Connor I'm on my way back and he owes me a massage - my shoulders hurt!"

She heard Jess giggle before asking, "Matt and Emily?"

"We're going to stay here for a bit, keep an eye on the anomaly, make sure there are no other creatures," Matt replied, never taking his eyes from Emily's. He could feel Jess's burning curiosity and mentally dared her to challenge him. She did not.

"Copy that, Matt," came her efficiently clipped reply.

Abby grinned and jogged to catch up with the security team to catch a ride.

Emily followed Matt back across the ice and caught hold of his arm as he reached the edge of the rink.

"What are we really doing?" she asked, pointedly.

Matt grinned at her and held up two pairs of ice skates. Emily squealed with delight and crushed the footwear between them in a fierce hug.

"Ooof," Matt muttered, almost inaudibly.

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><p>In a dimly lit room at MI6 the stolen computer files were being dissected by Sir John Sawers and his team of advisors.<p>

"And you're absolutely sure the information detailed here is correct?" he demanded with narrowed eyes. "There can be no mistakes this time."

"Absolutely," confirmed Commander Thompson. "They were retrieved directly from the ARC computer system. Sir, we have to act on this!"

Sir John leant back in his large, leather chair, interlaced his fingers and sighed.

"Very well. I shall discuss this with the Foreign Secretary. Ensure your team are ready to move, Commander, this won't take long." He looked up as Thompson nodded, his eyes glinting.

"Dismissed!" barked Sir John before sitting forward again, retrieving a file and tossing it across the large conference table making each of his advisors twitch nervously.

Sir John frowned, his grey eyebrows furrowed deeply towards the bridge of his nose. Lester, Becker and the ARC again. Well, this time MI6 would prevail. He would not be humiliated for a second time. No apologies, no humble pie. Lester would learn what it meant to disrespect Military Intelligence.

He jabbed a button on his intercom. "Get me the Foreign Secretary - now!" he barked, impatiently.

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><p><strong>Ooooh, which files have they got - and why are they so important? Find out next chapter!<strong>

**Lots of Jecker next chapter too! Please make me happy and review! You know I love them! :D :D :D :D :D**


	4. The Stolen Files

**A/N Hello again - another update for you. Jecker is sooo much easier to write! :D Ooh and there's a little bit of Conby too! :D Hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval - ITV and Impossible Pictures do. But I have images of Becker in my head that Hugh Heffner would be proud of! Hehehehehehehehehehe :P**

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><p>Connor skidded to a halt just inside the armoury door, his trainers squeaking like nails on a blackboard on the metal floor. He straightened after his frantic run, ran his hand through his hair and smoothed down his clothes before sauntering round the gun cases as if he had all the time in the world.<p>

"Becker!" he huffed, his attempt at nonchalance ruined by his inability to hide the fact that he was out of breath. "Where's your Comms? We've been trying to reach you for ages!"

"I switched it off," came the measured reply as Becker stood up from the bench on which he sat with Lieutenant Carter, Sergeant Collier and Sergeant Hicks.

In fact, all four men stood up, their body language rather cagey. Becker was the only man who looked directly at Connor , his face betraying nothing, whilst the others stared at the floor sheepishly and Connor realised suddenly that he had interrupted something. He frowned at Becker.

"What's going on?" he asked in a low voice, recent experiences having enhanced his "something's not quite right" radar.

Becker ignored him and looked at his senior security staff.

"Get everything in place. You know what to do?" The men looked up at their Captain and nodded once in acknowledgement. "Then you're dismissed."

The men nodded again and Carter glanced briefly at Connor. Becker pulled a face.

"Go, Carter," he told his 2IC, brusquely. "I'll deal with this."

The men exited the armoury without a word and Connor was almost jumping up and down with curiosity.

"Becker! What's going on? What was all that about? Come on, mate, tell me!" he wheedled childishly.

Becker just stared at him, his face impassive, in what Jess called his "let me ramble on until I blush" face, giving nothing away. Eventually Connor sighed and gave up, returning to the reason he had been seeking the soldier in the first place.

"The good news is I've worked out what they've taken - and managed to retrieve some of the deleted files," he told Becker proudly. Becker raised his eyebrows but Connor continued. "And they left a digital signature behind so we know who hacked the system." Connor paused for dramatic effect, building up to his revelation, but Becker already knew what he was going to say.

"MI6?" the soldier asked casually, then regretted his arrogance as he watched Connor's face fall with disappointment at being denied his moment.

"Sorry," Becker told his friend sincerely. "Its just I was expecting it."

Connor nodded and shrugged it off with a half smile. "Lets go to the ADD and I'll show you what I found!"

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><p>Jess sat in the big red chair trawling through the files Connor had retrieved and working out which ones were still missing. She knew these files backwards, having read and re-read them umpteen times during her first two weeks at the ARC - back when her only company had been Rex and the mammoth. She knew the missions as if she had experienced them personally and was well versed in their chronological order. What she and Connor had yet to work out was why each particular file was of interest to MI6 and what possible use could be made of it.<p>

Becker stood behind her chair with Connor to his right, both men frowning, trying to make the connection.

"So, let me get this straight," Becker sighed. "The files they have taken don't follow on from each other, but jump around from mission to mission, right?"

Connor nodded. "They've taken the file from the very first mission, then jumped to when Helen came back and then the Dodos but they haven't seemed interested in any files mentioning Leek and the clones - which I thought was odd. All of those files are intact. They have, however, taken most of the files pertaining to Christine Johnson -" Connor paused.

"Well, that one makes sense. Christine Johnson was ex-MI6." Becker told them.

Connor and Jess's eyes widened at the soldier's statement. "Continue," Becker urged Connor.

"Oh right. Well, unsurprisingly they also seem interested in Helen's ventures into the future, the artefact and our final mission which left us stranded in the Cretaceous." Connor glanced nervously at Becker, unsure of the man's reaction to his mention of this ill-fated mission and the subsequent rescue operations that resulted in the death of Dr Sarah Page.

Becker ran one hand over his face and huffed out a long breath. "There's something that links all these missions - something we're missing. Its not Helen, I'm sure of that - but something she did or something she found."

"Like the Anomaly Opening Device or the artefact?" Connor ventured, carefully.

Becker frowned. "Possibly," he said, but without much conviction. "Connor, I wasn't there for the Dodos - tell me about that mission."

Connor froze. He didn't want to relive that particular incident. His friend, Tom, had died because of the Dodos and Connor's involvement with the ARC project. He felt Becker staring at him and Jess reached out her hand and placed it on his arm.

"Its ok, Connor," she told him gently. "Just skip that part. Stick to the facts." The techs' eyes met and Jess nodded reassuringly at Connor who sucked in a deep breath and began the tale.

Becker leant against the red chair as he listened to Connor recite how Helen had tricked them to an anomaly site with the promise of a Smilodon and mass casualties. He told of an anomaly in a walk-in fridge and how Helen had escaped through it without a big cat in sight. Stephen had followed her only to find a field full of anomalies, describing it as the "Spaghetti Junction" of anomaly sites, after the horrendous road network with the same name on the outskirts of Birmingham. Connor omitted his ridiculous antics with a steel ladle and the lump he had on his forehead afterwards, deciding that information was on a need to know basis and Becker would tease him mercilessly if he knew. Then the Dodos came through and all hell broke loose - but he couldn't see why MI6 would be concerned by an extinct bird species.

Becker's frown deepened. He couldn't see a reason why MI6 would bother with the Dodos either, but the field of anomalies may have sparked their curiosity. Somehow all these things - Helen, the anomaly field, the future devices and Helen's final mission into the past - somehow they were all of interest to MI6. There had to be a connection - he just had to figure it out. Subconsciously his hand moved on the back of Jess's chair as he struggled to find the answer he knew was staring him in the face.

Jess froze as she felt Becker's hand drop down from the back of her chair and into the loose hair spilling over the top of her shoulders. His fingers remained their for some time, absently stroking and twirling the strands between their tips, making her skin tingle and tiny trembles of excitement shudder up and down her body. She glanced at Connor to her right, unable to look at Becker behind her, and the scientist smiled at her, noticing nothing unusual. Jess's breathing became short and her concentration wandered as she enjoyed the warmth of the soldier's hand in her hair. She gasped involuntarily as Becker's fingertips grazed the skin at the nape of her neck and he removed his hand swiftly, as if suddenly becoming aware of what he had been doing. He looked at Connor, confused for a moment, his brows furrowed.

"I've got to - yeah," he said vaguely, turned abruptly and stalked away without a word to Jess.

Jess sank down in her chair feeling cold from the loss of his touch and the misery threatening to envelop her. What the hell was going on with him? He was professional at work, of course he was, but now he was touching her without thinking, driving her crazy, and then just abandoning her. And that just wasn't on in her opinion. If it happened again she would have to give him a piece of her mind and hang the consequences - even if that meant giving him up.

To make matters worse, Abby arrived and Connor pulled his fiancee into a big hug before sitting her down on one of the technician's chairs and proceeding to massage her shoulders as she had requested. Abby groaned and moaned as Connor's fingers dug in and pulled and pushed at her aching muscles, releasing the tension. As her pleasurable noises got louder, Lester appeared in the doorway to his office.

"Could you two please get a room? Or, at the very least, out of my earshot? Its bad enough having to listen to you two canoodling most of the time but this is verging on pornographic!" The boss folded his arms across his chest and glared across the Ops Room.

"Lester! Its only a back massage!" protested Connor.

Lester shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever. Just relieve my suffering and go home, both of you, and do - whatever it is you do." He waved them away before retreating back into his office with a mild twist of disgust on his face.

Abby stood up and took Connor's hand. "Well, you heard the boss!" she told him. "Time to go home and -" the rest of what she said was whispered into Connor's ear but the man's beaming smile, wide eyes and beetroot red cheeks told Jess exactly what Abby had in mind. The couple virtually sprinted from the Ops Room, giggling like teenagers as they went.

A few minutes later, Lester re-appeared shouting for Jess. Reluctantly Jess freed herself from her chair and ascended the steps at the head of the Ops Room.

"Ah, there you are. I'm off home now too but, if Matt deigns to grace us with his presence at any point this evening, tell him there are some reports on my desk that I require him to sign before forwarding them to the Minister."

"I'm here, James, you can tell me yourself." Matt's lilting voice came from behind Lester, making the elder man turn on his expensive Italian shoes and frown.

"I'm not repeating myself, Matt. Jess knows what I want. Goodnight all!" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his employees before sauntering down the corridor to the lift and his beloved Jaguar.

Matt, Emily and Jess all exchanged exasperated looks before Becker emerged from the corridor behind Lester's office and Matt's bad mood returned. He glared at the soldier, jaw set and eyes narrowed, determined to get the answers he felt he was entitled to.

"Becker," he started, his voice low but authoritative. "Tell me what's going on, right now!" His tone was demanding, leaving Becker no room to argue.

"Matt," returned Becker, unphased by the Team Leader's irritation. "I was hoping to speak to you."

"Yeah," said Matt under his breath. "I bet you were."

Becker moved to stand beside Jess as he addressed the Irishman.

"MI6 aren't done with us, Matt," Becker began. "I've implemented what security measure I can to safeguard the ARC and our systems but I think a breach by Military Intelligence is imminent."

Matt stared at the soldier. "What?" he queried, dumbfounded. This is what Becker had been hiding. "This has all been dealt with. Becker, you're being paranoid. This is all yesterday's news!" he protested.

Becker raised one eyebrow, the rest of his face remained unmoving.

"Well, it appears that yesterday isn't finished with us just yet," he said flatly and proceeded to relay all the information he, Jess and Connor had uncovered.

Emily gasped and grabbed Matt's arm in alarm. Matt was unimpressed.

"And you're only telling me this now," he muttered.

Jess stood stock still throughout the entire conversation. Becker had placed his hand on the small of her back and was now tracing his fingers up and down her spine seemingly oblivious to it. Little sparks of electricity danced across Jess's ribs and pelvis with disconcerting voltage and she felt a blush creeping up her neck towards her face. Something snapped and anger gripped her, giving her a strength she would not have had otherwise.

With a cry that left the others gaping behind them, Jess shoved Becker as hard as she could towards Lester's office. Caught completely off guard and off balance, Becker was propelled forward into the office, stumbling against the desk. He stood upright to face her as she slammed the door shut and screamed at him.

"Stop touching me!"

Becker blinked, uncomprehendingly.

"Just stop it!" Jess continued, her voice high and agitated. "Its not fair!"

Becker shook his head, his face blank and uncertain.

"Jess, what are you talking about?" he asked in confusion.

Jess breathed heavily trying to calm down, to be more rational. Becker just watched her, his brows dipped deeply in the middle of his forehead, his lips in a tight, thin line.

Jess sighed heavily, realising that whatever tenderness Becker had shown her had been unconsciously done and that he didn't have the first clue what she was talking about.

"You're very professional at work, Becker, I get that. I really do," she began, aware that she was likely to ramble and not make much sense. "But just recently you keep touching me. I don't even think you're aware you're doing it and, if things were different, I wouldn't be complaining. But they're not and its driving me crazy!"

Becker leaned down slightly and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Jess," he said softly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She looked into his eyes and almost lost herself in them. Fighting the need to kiss him, she ploughed on.

"Becker, you've been stroking my hair and my back in the Ops Room -" she paused as Becker's eyes widened in something akin to alarm and confirmed that he had been unaware of his actions. "I wouldn't mind if I thought something was going to come of it - but it doesn't. You don't take it any further and you won't because you've not been home since you've been back at the ARC. You spend every waking, and sleeping, moment working. There's no time for anything else. And its driving me crazy." Jess trailed off, unable to explain to him what she wanted.

"I apologise if I've made you feel uncomfortable," said Becker stiffly, straightening up and stepping back from her. "I assure you it won't happen again."

Jess could have cried. What did she have to do to get through to this man? She moved forwards and placed her hands firmly on his face.

"I don't want you to apologise, Becker!" she told him forcefully. "I want you to pay attention to me!" She blushed and looked away as he raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Jess sighed again and stepped back. Suddenly very interested in her hands, she asked him an uncomfortable question.

"Becker, do you know how long its been since we were together in the orchard?" Her voice was quiet and she stumbled over her words.

Becker sucked in a deep breath and held it in his cheeks before huffing it out in one long, loud sigh. Now he understood. She was feeling neglected - and subconsciously he was too. Hence his need to randomly touch her. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently with his fingertips.

"Jess, I'm so sorry. I had to get the security measures in place. You understand that, right?" he whispered.

She nodded mutely and rubbed her cheek against his rough digits.

"Are they finished now?" she asked softly.

Becker twisted a half smile. "We are as secure as I think we can be, given the circumstances, yes," he replied.

"So, can we go home tonight then?" Jess murmured, lifting her eyes to his and noting the sudden flash of desire in them.

His eyes dropped to her mouth and she parted her lips slightly in the hope that - oh God! Dizziness gripped her as Becker caressed her lips with his own and crushed her between the glass wall of the office and his strong, hard body.

Loud clapping drew their attention from each other to the audience of Matt, Emily, Carter, Collier and Hicks outside in the Ops Room. Pulling away quickly but keeping hold of Jess's hand, Becker opened the office door and glared at each and every one of them. His gaze finally rested on Matt, who smirked with glee at the soldier, and Becker rolled his eyes.

"Look, we're as secure as we can be. I have been reliably informed that I haven't slept in weeks -" he glanced down fondly at Jess before continuing. "I suggest we all go home to rest."

Matt smirked thinking that rest had nothing to do with it. But he nodded, agreeing with Becker's assessment. "We know they're coming and we're as prepared as we can be. Home sounds good." He took Emily's hand and kissed her fingers tenderly.

The soldiers turned away, grinning and grimacing in equal measure.

"We'll stay here Captain," confirmed Carter. "Double check everything, ensure our defences are in place."

Becker nodded to his 2IC and a confidential look passed between them that was missed by everyone except Matt. And it niggled him, reigniting his irritation. He let it pass, for the moment anyway.

"Right," the Team Leader said. "Lets go and grab what little bit of normality we may have left."

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><p>Somewhere in Whitehall, a clandestine meeting was in progress in a darkened room filled with antique furniture and row upon row of leather bound books.<p>

"Very well, Sir John, you have my attention," stated the Foreign Secretary. "Give me a short while to speak to the Prime Minister. I will have jurisdiction for the ARC transferred from the Home Office to the Foreign Office and appoint a Commander of MI6 as Director."

Sir John Sawers nodded and stood up to leave. The Foreign Secretary's raised hand stayed him.

"Wait for my authorisation, Sir John. This is a delicate negotiation and I do not want my position to be compromised in front of the Prime Minister." The elegantly suited man warned his subordinate pointedly, almost rudely.

"Yes sir," agreed Sir John meekly, unable to contain his smile.

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><p><strong>AN Hope you enjoyed it! Any guesses as to what will happen once Becker and Jess get home? :P**

**Any ideas as to what the four boys were plotting in the armoury? Hehehehehe :D  
><strong>

**Also, there will be a special mention for anyone who can put together the connection between the stolen files and MI6 (and its NOT Helen!) :D**

**Please review - you know I can't live without them! :D :D :D :D :D  
><strong>


	5. The Last Night of Normalcy

**A/N First of all a special mention to Cengiz who was the only one to get the connection between the stolen files mostly right! *Sends virtual cookies - enjoy!* All will be revealed shortly.  
><strong>

**For now, get ready for a little fun. Here's what happens to all our favourite ARC lovebirds during the night...(Hmmmm I feel an M-rated fic coming on! Hehehehehehehehe!). There's a little bit for everyone here: Conby, Memily and Jecker! As usual - please let me know if any of it is OOC. I think I'm getting better at the Conby - but apologies must go to Lady Emily Merchant because she's making the tea again! Hehehehehehehehehe :D**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers - hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. But Becker is naked in my shower and getting a bit wrinkly now actually...:P**

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><p>Connor sat on the sofa in Jess's flat wearing a burgundy vest and navy blue trackies, his eyes focused on the TV screen in front of him, his fingers furiously caressing the buttons on the X-Box controller. His face twisted in response to each action and reaction of the game play and his arms flexed with each jab of his fingers on the controller's buttons.<p>

"Connor!" he heard Abby singsong behind him but he ignored her, too engrossed in the game. "Connor!" Abby called again, her voice ever so slightly tinged with annoyance at his lack of response.

Connor didn't even look up from the TV screen. "Hey," he said. "Busy now! You were the one who insisted on having a bath first and then spent 45 minutes with your bubbles and your pampering and girl stuff so now you'll have to wait for me to finish the boy stuff!"

The game bleeped and made "kapow" noises which Connor mimicked with a gleeful grin.

"Connor!" yelled Abby, her annoyance now clearly evident in her tone and Connor sighed loudly.

He pressed pause on the controller with excessive force and twisted his body to look over the back of the sofa. What he saw caused his fingers to clumsily drop the X-Box controller to the floor with a loud clatter, his jaw to plummet towards his chest and his deep brown eyes to turn almost black with desire. He goldfished for a moment, completely unable to speak, as Abby sashayed towards him, her transparent gold skirt swishing around her smooth bare legs. She stopped a few feet from the sofa enjoying Connor's reaction.

"So," she asked slowly, smiling seductively.

"Abby - what - I - how -?" Connor could barely speak as he surveyed her from head to foot. She was wearing a pretty accurate approximation of Princess Leia's bikini outfit from Return of the Jedi, from the gold banded bra top to the transparent gold open skirt. She had even found a wig of Leia's doughnut hairstyle from the very first film. Connor was completely transfixed. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his arms resting on the sofa back, to get a better look at her.

Abby moved further into the living room, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor.

"I originally bought it for our wedding night," she told him softly. "But that seems to be getting further and further away, so I thought tonight might be as good a night as any." She paused. "Unless you still want to play the X-Box -".

Connor leapt over the back of the sofa in one fluid move and stood in front of his fiancee breathing heavily.

"X-Box?" he whispered with a grin. "What X-Box?"

Abby grinned too. "See anything you like, Captain Solo?" she asked, fluttering her eyes at him coquettishly.

"God, yes," murmured Connor, leaning in to kiss her mouth softly. "Princess Leia is very beautiful," he paused thoughtfully. "But she is nothing compared to you, Abs."

His arm curled under her knees, lifting her suddenly into the air, and Abby giggled as she looped her arms around his neck.

"Oooh Han, take me to bed and show me your Millennium Falcon," Abby whispered into Connor's neck. The man stared down at her, impressed by her sudden knowledge of his favourite character, then nearly banged her head on the doorframe in his eagerness to transport them both into the bedroom...

* * *

><p>Matt followed Emily up the stairs into his flat in silence. Standing awkwardly in the sparse living area still neither of them said a single word until Matt took hold of her hand and she turned her head to look at him questioningly.<p>

"So, what are we going to do with our last few hours of normalcy?" asked Matt, his Irish accent soft but still loud in the silence. Then he grinned. "Whatever normalcy is for the likes of us."

Emily returned his smile and raised an eyebrow. "Well, first I'm going to have a cup of tea," she announced clearly and moved away from him towards the kitchen.

Matt shook his head, smirking. "Of course you are," he muttered indulgently, knowing he would never refuse Emily anything.

He glanced around his flat as he followed her to the kitchen. The once empty shelves now contained trinkets and knickknacks. Not many, mind you, it was still pretty barren. But there was definitely evidence of a woman's touch now - or was it evidence of his inability to say no to just one woman? Arriving in the kitchen he mused on how he had always been a coffee man, yet here he was about to enjoy (yes, enjoy!) a cup of tea, made in a teapot and everything, because that was what she preferred. He leant against the countertop, watching Emily prepare the tea, drinking in her soft brown curls, the way her brow furrowed with concentration as she poured just the right amount of milk into each cup, how she glanced up at him, knowing he was watching her, her brown eyes as liquid as the tea itself.

Emily passed the cup, daintily placed on a saucer, to Matt, her fingers grazing his as she did so. He swallowed at the contact and she averted her eyes as her skin reacted to his delightfully. Matt cleared his throat and hoped his words didn't sound too strangled.

"So, tea," he began. "Then what?"

Emily looked back at him and smiled. "We play cards."

Matt gaped at her, stupefied. "Cards?" he echoed.

She nodded enthusiastically, her brown curls bouncing, then rummaged around in a kitchen drawer producing a deck of cards with a triumphant "Aha!"

Matt huffed quietly as Emily took his hand and led him to the small breakfast table and two chairs set out next to the wall of windows overlooking the city. The glow of the city reflected off the glass giving just enough illumination to render lights unnecessary. Seeing Matt's stunned face as she expertly shuffled the deck, Emily grinned at him as she dealt the cards, turning one over between them.

"What's the game?" Matt enquired, curiously.

"Poker," stated Emily confidently, enjoying Matt's subsequent speechlessness. She filled the pause with a soft laugh. "You do know how to play poker, yes?"

Matt nodded and picked up his cards. Within minutes Emily had lost the hand and began to unbutton her shirt. Shocked, Matt reached over and covered her fingers with his own.

"Emily, what are you doing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Removing an item of clothing," the Victorian woman replied matter-of-factly.

"I can see that!" cried Matt. "But why?"

"When one loses a hand in poker, one must remove an item of clothing. Isn't that the rules?"

Matt let go of her hand and leant back in his chair, a smirk twitching around his mouth.

"And who told you that?" he asked softly.

Emily's eyes met his. "Connor," she told him and she smiled. Matt wondered why she smiled until she leant towards him, her fingers stroking her now exposed collarbone. "Was he wrong?" she whispered, her eyes dark, her smile now full of promise.

Matt realised she knew exactly what she was doing and colour rose in his cheeks as desire flooded his body.

"No, he wasn't wrong," he agreed hoarsely, knowing that he was going to win a few more hands and then lose - a lot…

* * *

><p>Becker and Jess left the ARC together that night. Becker was reluctant to let go of her hand. As he swung the car around in the underground car park Jess caught sight of an SUV parked inconsiderately in front of the loading bay doors. She frowned.<p>

"What's that car doing there?" she muttered. "It needs moving!"

Becker began to protest but, having already removed her Comms and left it at the ADD, Jess pulled out her mobile and dialled Lieutenant Carter. As she waited for him to answer, Becker tried to persuade her to let it go.

"Jess, its fine. It can be dealt with in the morning! Now more work now," he told her, knowing she would ignore him.

The call connected. "Carter!" Jess greeted the soldier. "There's an SUV down here blocking the loading bay doors. Can you get it moved please?" She paused as Carter replied and Becker strained to hear.

"Oh, you know about it already? Then why haven't you dealt with it?" she asked, a small amount of annoyance in her tone as she glanced at Becker, frowning. There was another muffled response and Jess sighed. "Oh well, fine. Keep looking and we'll figure it out in the morning. Night Carter!"

Becker waited for her to tell him the answer and when she didn't he stopped the car and turned towards her.

"Well?" he asked pointedly.

Jess looked at him, her lip pouting in frustration that the problem could not be solved there and then. "The keys are lost," she told Becker eventually. "I said I'd help Carter look for them in the morning."

She looked so dejected that Becker chuckled. "Never mind," he told her. "If anyone can find them, you can." Jess smiled gratefully at him, knowing this to be true, and Becker drove the car out of the garage and into the city towards his flat.

He still retained the same flat that he had before his faked death. His mother had been missing, his keys lost in the explosion, so it had been left untouched during his disappearance. He owned the property (and, in fact, the entire mansion block) so there was no bank to take repossession, no landlord to evict him. As his next of kin had not been available to close down any of his affairs - property, investments or banking - it remained much as it had been, as if he had simply taken a really long holiday. The flat had been left gathering dust, much as the rest of his life, ready for him to walk right back into as and when he was ready. He'd barely been back to the flat since his return to the ARC but it had made him smile to see how clean and tidy it was. During the time he had spent at his family home shortly after his mother's rescue, Jess, Abby and Emily had managed to persuade a local locksmith to provide a duplicate set of keys, giving them access to the property. They had then proceeded to spend their free time dusting, vacuuming and waxing the wood floors, re-stocking the fridge and larder cupboard and refreshing the linen. The result was a beautifully clean home to return to and Becker had been grateful for it, if not a little freaked out.

Jess ordered Becker to wait on the sofa whilst she prepared them both something to eat. Becker protested but Jess was adamant. He sank onto the cushions, a feeling of exhaustion creeping over him as he did so. Jess clicked her way to the kitchen, content that Becker was stationary, for the moment at least. She rummaged around in the kitchen collecting saucepans, pre-heating the oven, and preparing the ingredients. She had peeked into the living room moments ago and smiled as she saw Becker sprawled across the sofa fast asleep, his head lolling on the arm cushion, one foot firmly on the floor still ready to leap into action if required. She was still smiling as she peeled the carrots, then sliced her finger with the peeler as her whole body tensed and jumped in fear. Screaming echoed around the flat and, dropping the carrot on the floor and pressing her bleeding finger to her mouth, Jess ran towards the source of the sound.

She discovered Becker curled up in a foetal position on the floor in front of the sofa. His arms were raised over his face and he was shaking and screaming, his breath heaving in short, sharp gasps. Jess knelt beside him, horrified, and reached out to him. Becker reacted instantly and defensively and Jess grabbed his arms in an effort to prevent him lashing out at her.

"Becker!" she cried. "It's ok! It's me! It's Jess!"

Becker's eyes snapped open and, at the same time, he writhed his arms trying to release them from her grasp. Looking into his eyes frightened Jess more than terrorists, more than future predators. His hazel eyes were wild and fevered and scared.

His whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair was damp and sticky, his breathing hard and laboured. Jess let go of one of his arms and gently caressed his hair and cheek.

"Shhhhhh," she soothed. "It's ok now. It was just a nightmare. Shhhhhh Becker."

She heard his breathing begin to slow, watched as his eyes became less fevered and saw the bright stain of embarrassment creep up his neck to his face. He closed his eyes unable to look at her, still unable to speak.

She continued stroking his hair and whispering to him, trying to calm him down. Eventually, he took her hand in his and opened his eyes to stare at her soulfully.

"Nightmare?" she asked him softly and he nodded. "Will you tell me about it?"

Becker sucked in a breath and shuddered. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. "They had you. I didn't see their faces, didn't know who they were, but they had you." He paused. His throat felt constricted and he could barely swallow, let alone speak. "I couldn't get to you. No matter how hard I tried, how hard I fought, I couldn't get to you, I couldn't -" he floundered and Jess shushed him gently, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"And this is why you're constantly working? Why you can't sleep? Why you won't sleep?" she murmured, feeling guilty at being the cause.

Becker nodded, mutely, his pride making him feel ashamed.

"Well, I'm hardly surprised after what you've been through." Jess told him assuredly.

He rubbed his hand down over his face and found his voice. "You went through it too, Jess. Don't you get nightmares?"

She smiled at him and helped him to sit up. Shuffling up closer to him she manoeuvred herself until she was kneeling in between his legs, facing him. "I had nightmares when I thought you were dead," she told him, interlacing her fingers with his. "Horrendous nightmares," she shuddered at the memory. "But I had Abby to help me then. I thought I'd have nightmares after what happened at the ARC -" she couldn't bring herself to mention Kabir's name. "But as soon as I knew you were still alive, the bad dreams lost their potency."

Becker frowned and shook his head, not understanding. "I had nightmares about what happened to me, but then you would rescue me in the dream and they were no longer nightmares," Jess continued. "I know that as long as you are alive, you will always be there to protect me."

Becker's countenance paled visibly and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple forced to bob up and down in his already constricted throat. He removed his fingers from hers and Jess looked at him, startled.

"That's a hell of an expectation to live up to, Jess," he murmured, knowing he would fail her.

Huffing in disagreement, Jess leant forward and kissed him, entangling her fingers in his hair and pushing her tongue between his lips, smiling against his mouth as she heard his involuntary moan. She pulled back again, stroking his cheek and gazing at him adoringly.

"I love you. I trust you, Becker. I know you won't ever let me down." Her youthful conviction in his ability to always keep her safe scared the hell out of him.

Her kiss had left him dizzy with desire, his eyes could focus only on her; a nuclear bomb could have exploded and he would never have noticed. His love for her left him distracted and helpless and he had no doubt that anyone could get past him right now. He placed his hands on her waist, marvelling at how large they looked around her slender frame, and stared straight into her eyes.

"Right now I'm not sure I could protect anybody, Jessica," he told her, gravely. "If MI6 burst through that door now, I would have no hope of keeping you safe."

Jess shook her head. "Yes you would!" she countered. "I know you, Becker. However distracted you are, you are never completely off duty. There is always a part of you on alert!" She grinned at his dubious face. "And if MI6 came bursting in through that door now, you would roll over me, retrieve the Glock from your boot and then open fire at a moment's notice - and God help them!" She grinned as he raised his eyebrows and she knew he was wondering how she knew about the Glock. "And I would be safe and sound underneath you."

At the thought of Jess underneath him, the heat of desire rushed back into his body and his hands left her waist destined for her hair. He pulled her face towards him and kissed her passionately, leaving her gasping and giggling, a deep red blush on her cheeks.

"I love you, Jessica," he murmured, his voice deep and thick and incredibly sexy.

"Of course you do!" she grinned, her heart beating furiously. Then she pulled back from him, needing a little room to compose herself. "Look, why don't you have a shower while I check on our dinner. It will make you feel better."

Becker sighed. He did feel sweaty and the memory of the nightmare was still fresh in his mind. She was right - it would do him good to wash the bad feelings away.

* * *

><p>Becker stood in his large double shower, hot water cascading over his head and down his back, un-knotting his muscles which rippled as the hard jets of water bounced off his skin. His hands rested on the tiles in front of him, bracing his body, as he allowed the pure, clear liquid to cleanse his mind of the nightmares and fill him with nothing but the roar as it raced over his ears and down his neck.<p>

He didn't hear the bathroom door open. He wasn't aware of the intruder until he sensed a presence behind him, watching. With lightning fast reflexes, Becker spun in the shower, grabbing his attacker by the shoulders and slamming them into the tiles opposite the open glass shower door.

"Becker!" Jess cried out, her words lost as she had the wind knocked out of her against the tiles.

Becker blinked furiously to remove the water from his eyes and focused on the small, auburn haired woman pinned up against the wall, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. His heightened breathing slowed and he relaxed his grip as recognition flooded into his eyes.

"Jessica! What he hell are you doing? You scared the living daylights out of me!" he yelled, more angry at himself than at her.

Jess fought to catch her breath and managed a small smile. "I thought you might need some help washing your back." She looked up at him nervously, chewing her lower lip.

As Becker stared down at her, he suddenly became aware that she was naked. The shock of being thrown against the tiles had her breathing rapidly, her breasts heaving and bouncing with every breath, and water was cascading across and between them like they were stones under a waterfall. And she was naked. And he was naked. And she was naked.

Noting his silence and recognising the reason for it, Jess reached out a hand and trailed it down his chest. Groaning softly he leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue parting her lips and being well and truly met by her own. He grinned as Jess muttered against his mouth.

"You definitely require some washing assistance. You are very, very mucky, Captain Becker…"

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, Becker found Jess in the kitchen clearing up what remained of her attempt to prepare dinner the previous evening. She smiled softly at him, her entire face glowing.<p>

"Sleep well, Captain?" she asked cheerfully.

He shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Nope, I hardly slept at all."

She padded towards him, wearing nothing but one of his black ARC t-shirts, and traced her fingers over his face. "Any nightmares?"

Grinning, Becker shook his head again. "Nope, didn't have time for any," he muttered before pulling her soft curves against his firm muscles and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

* * *

><p>Squeezed into a ventilation duct at the ARC, Lieutenant Carter glanced nervously at Sergeant Collier.<p>

"That the last one?" he asked.

Collier nodded. "Hell, I hope so. Its creepy thinking they've been watching us for months and we've just let them."

Carter grinned in agreement. "Well, we've blinded them now so they'll be coming for us. Its nearly time."

Both men twitched, an odd mix of fear and anticipation rushing through their muscles. Bring it on...

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><p><strong>AN So - shall I do another M-rated? :P**

**Please review and let me know what you think - you are all wonderful! :D**


	6. The Hostile Takeover

**A/N Hello everybody! I am so sorry for not updating sooner. But apparently there is this little thing called "Life" and it has been interfering with Primeval Fan Fiction for the past few weeks! I know! What's that about? Anyone would think it was important or something! Anyway, I'm back and I thank you for your patience. I hope you are all still with me and as eager to let me know what you think as I am to read your reviews! There was going to be more action in this chapter - but I rabbitted on so much I had to cut it in half. I hope you will still enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or any of the characters (except the ones I have created). But at present Becker is wearing nothing but a bridle and prancing around my living room yelling "Neigh!" (Oh, I do hope that doesn't need an M rating!) :P**

* * *

><p>Darkness pervaded every corner. The silence was loud in the darkness. It could not have been more eerie if there had been mist tendrils drifting casually across the emptiness. Room after room, lab after lab, corridor after corridor was silent, dim and abandoned. Jess walked through the ARC shivering at the bleakness that confronted her. She stopped momentarily to stare into one of the research labs. Where there should have been people, now there was no-one. Where there once were computers and other electronic equipment whirring and buzzing with activity, now there were empty spaces and loose wires. The ARC had become a ghost town overnight and the FCO felt a pervading sadness at its lack of life. In the cold, dark corridors Jess was the only splash of colour and sound and, cursing herself for being so daft, she even managed to spook herself with the echo of her shoes tapping along the deserted passageway.<p>

Lester had decided all non essential personnel should take a lengthy paid sabbatical, unsure as to when they could return to their jobs. All lead technicians, assistants and those with extensive knowledge of either the anomalies or Prospero or Connor's research had been given hefty bonuses and told to take themselves and their families on long holidays somewhere sunny in an effort to prevent their capture by MI6. Most had complied readily with very few questions and disappeared before their mean-spirited boss could change his mind.

After blinding the security service, Carter and Collier had spent the rest of the night disposing of as much classified equipment as they could, concentrating on Connor's lab and then other areas of highly classified research. The ADD and the armoury remained intact for the most part. All the weaponry in the armoury was inventoried and Becker did not want anyone to be subjected to interrogation by MI6 regarding any missing hardware. He knew their techniques well enough; he had been subjected to many of them as part of his SAS training. The thought that any one of his men could suffer as much as he had turned his stomach. The soldiers had however, against Becker's better judgement and of their own volition, managed to spirit away a good number of EMD power packs ensuring that once the fully charged weapons were depleted they were rendered useless.

The largest single group of people left on site was the contingent of soldiers, but even they had been left at half strength. Becker knew it would be impossible to defend the ARC should MI6 mount an offensive. It was better just to let them come with no casualties and have his men be incorporated into the new regime. It would be easier to get back in that way too. He would need friendlies on the inside should hostile action to regain control of the ARC become necessary. It would also prove useful to have an officer working for him to undermine any new administration; counter intelligence and sabotage were powerful weapons that Becker intended to make full use of. He remembered Christine Johnson all too well and hoped any Commander from MI6 would have her exceptional level of arrogance.

Jess took her frothy coffee and, sipping it carefully and breathing in its deep, dark aroma, she joined Emily, Abby and Connor in the deserted, quiet Ops Room. With just the four of them it hardly felt like a Hub, but the ADD was humming comfortingly in the background, actively searching for anomalies; fortunately for the moment with little success. The friends were stood together, uncertain and apprehensive, staring with consternation towards Lester's office. Jess followed their gaze and frowned. Lester sat, leaning backwards in his chair, his fingers interlaced, his eyebrows drawn down towards the bridge of his nose. He was glaring with narrowed eyes at Matt, sat on the opposite side of his desk, faced away from the watching team. Matt's back was vertical and tense and he appeared to be receiving a dressing down from his boss.

Jess's eyes sought Becker and found him lounging against the glass wall of the office, his arms folded across his chest, his feet placed at ease, a foot apart. His expression appeared impassive, uninterested even in the conversation between the two older men. However, Jess had learned to read him a little better over the past few months and could tell that he was agitated and on edge from the firm set of his jaw and the slight tilt of his head. She couldn't hear the exchange between the three men but she knew that it had made Becker uneasy. She glanced at Abby, worry etched on her features, and Abby squeezed her arm reassuringly.

Stillness and silence and tension. No-one spoke. It almost appeared as if no-one breathed. It became all too much for Connor. He clapped his hands together once, a sharp, loud sound in the hushed room, making the ladies jump nervously.

"So -" he began, more for something to break the silence than having something interesting to say.

Abby touched his arm gently. "Shhhhh, Connor," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Right, yeah," Connor agreed quietly with a small nod, looking quite lost as to what to do next.

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><p>The silence and stillness dragged on, becoming unbearable. Connor sat on one of the swivel chairs, twirling around and muttering "Wheeeee!" to himself as quietly as he could. Abby and Emily paced the Ops Room, both women more used to action than to waiting. Abby stopped only to glance at Connor and roll her eyes with an indulgent smile. Emily gazed occasionally towards Matt in Lester's office, now leaning back in his chair, shaking his head. She could almost hear his apathetic sigh as he looked away from his boss towards Becker. Jess stood still, her heels not breaking the quiet, until her legs hurt and she had to hop from one foot to the other to get the circulation moving in them again. It was a gentle pattering sound, as Jess moved from toe to toe, trying not to let her heels come into contact with the metal floor. She watched Becker intently, fretting about the increased tension in his limbs, in his stance, his body stretched like an elastic band, ready to snap back to its original shape with a click of his fingers.<p>

Jess jumped out of her skin with a squeal, her heels clattering heavily on the hard floor of the Ops Room. Connor fell off the swivel chair with a yelp, banging his head on the nearest table, his brown eyes wide with alarm. Abby and Emily stood, stock still and wide eyed, like two rabbits caught in a hunter's gun sights. An intermittent alarm blared from the ADD, the sound blasting through the tranquillity of the Ops Room and reverberating around the steel structure. It was an invasive, bone shuddering sound, rather like an colossal fire engine _NEE NAA NEE NAA NEE NAA NEE NAA NEE NAA_ on and on and on and on, deafening and strident, causing Emily to cover her ears with her hands.

Finding the power of movement, Jess ran to the ADD, frantically pressing keys and glancing rapidly from screen to screen, trying to discover the reason for the alarm. She shook her head, her panic rising. _What was it? What the hell was it? _There was no flashing red light accompanying the alarm, no indication at all of an anomaly. Just an ever increasing list of names flickering repeatedly on one screen and the ear splitting noise that indicated a direct threat to the ARC, even if she couldn't work out what that threat was. Glancing back at Connor with frightened eyes, Jess saw Becker and Matt pelting out of Lester's office towards her.

"What have we got, Jess?" asked Matt, dragging Emily with him having taken hold of her hand on his way across the room. His voice was calm and measured although his steely blue eyes betrayed some of the apprehension he was hiding.

"I don't know!" cried Jess, her own voice high pitched and somewhat panicked. "It's not an anomaly. Just a list of names - but I don't know what it means!" She felt out of control and she didn't like it one bit.

Becker leant across the ADD and studied the screens with interest. He placed his hand firmly on Jess's shoulder to quiet her distress before straightening up and addressing Matt.

"It's the panic alarms," he stated flatly, pointing at the names. "Starting at the front gate, with Lieutenant Carter." He paused and glanced at each of his colleagues before resting his eyes on Lester who stood waiting at the top of the steps. "They're here," he announced and Lester nodded in acknowledgement.

The ARC Alpha team moved together even as Lester slunk away back into his office.

Matt squeezed Emily's hand and met the eyes of each one of his team. "You all know what to do," he said softly, and the team nodded in unison, their faces lined with trepidation.

"We'll be fine," Emily assured him, squeezing back before catching Abby's eye and receiving a small smile in return.

Jess gripped Becker's arm bringing his attention to her, her eyes wide with fear; not for herself but for him. He smiled down at her and took her hand from his arm, holding her small, cold fingers between his large, warmer palms.

"We'll be back for you, I promise," he assured her with quiet confidence, completely misinterpreting the nature of her concern. Jess swallowed and managed a half smile as Becker dropped her hand and looked at Matt.

"It's time, mate," he said and Matt nodded once, glancing with gentle eyes at Emily before jogging out of the Ops Room with Becker into the side corridor.

Abby, Connor, Emily and Jess closed protectively together and simply waited.

"I hope you have a plan, mate," Matt muttered once they were out of earshot of the others.

Becker stopped abruptly in the corridor. "Of course I do. Up!" He looked above his head and removed the panel from the air conditioning duct above his head.

Matt shook his head with a wry smile. "You've developed a bit of a thing for these tin cans," he accused, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Becker merely rolled his eyes and heaved himself up into the tight enclosed space, dangling his legs, his combat boots kicking dangerously close to Matt's face.

* * *

><p>Six black clad soldiers marched into the Ops Room, led by Lieutenant Carter, their hands placed at the back of their heads. Behind them, weapons raised, followed twelve armed police officers, shouting over the noise of the ADD.<p>

"Armed Police! Lower your weapons! Armed Police!"

Lester stood in their way at the head of the stairs. He turned to look at Jess and made a chopping motion across his neck. Frowning, it took Jess a moment to understand his meaning, then, as it dawned on her, she reached over and silenced the alarm still blaring from the ADD.

"- turn that infernal noise off - now!" Lester's angry bellow became audible as the siren ceased and he paused before his last word to lower his voice again. Turning back to the police officers he stated dryly:

"No-one here has any weapons so I suggest you lower yours. Unless you care to explain the shooting of unarmed civilians to your superiors."

He lowered his head and watched himself interlace his fingers before lifting his gaze again and demanding:

"Now, who are you and what on earth are you doing in my facility?"

The security team and their police escort came to an abrupt halt about five feet from Lester's position. The Ops Room was quiet again except for the thud of a single steady footfall across the metal flooring. As an impeccably dressed, short, stocky man with over-shined shoes came into view from behind the security contingent, Lester raised an eyebrow.

"Mr James Lester?" the smartly dressed man asked, although Lester knew it wasn't really a question.

"Yes," he replied, quietly. "And you are?"

"Commander Fred Thompson, MI6." He handed Lester an ivory sheet of paper, with a crest on the top, stamped TOP SECRET, smirking as he watched Lester grimace. "Jurisdiction for the ARC has been reassigned to the Foreign Office. The day to day running of this facility now falls under the remit of MI6 and, as such, I am relieving you of your responsibilities, Mr Lester."

Lester ran his hand through his hair, the only evidence that he was slightly perturbed by this news.

Commander Thompson clicked his fingers and three armed police officers arrived at his side. "I also have a warrant for your arrest under the Terrorism Act 2006." He handed Lester another sheet of paper which the ARC boss took but didn't bother to read. He had, after all, been expecting it. Still, he had to put on a bit of a show for them, didn't he?

Lester glared at the MI6 man. "On what charge?" he demanded, irritably, flicking a piece of lint off the shoulder of his well pressed Italian suit.

Thompson sneered, knowing he didn't have to divulge that information but deciding to anyway, such was his disdain for the man. "Aiding and abetting a known terrorist - a Captain Becker - and falsifying evidence to MI6 in order to obtain the release of said terrorist," he stated, raising an eyebrow and daring Lester to challenge him.

Lester sighed and held out his hands in readiness, wrists together. His face remained as unreadable as ever as he resigned himself to his fate.

"Lester, no!" cried Jess, clacking across the Ops Room towards him, closely followed by Abby, Connor and Emily. "That's not fair! It wasn't -"

Lester's glance at the FCO was severe and stopped her in her tracks. It was a look that was not missed by Commander Thompson. Motioning to the police officers to cuff Lester, he walked deliberately down the steps towards Jess.

"It wasn't what? Miss Parker, is it?" he asked two questions in one. Jess stumbled under his withering gaze before steadying herself.

"I mean - I just meant that - um - Lester wouldn't do something like that. He's a man of integrity!"

"Hmmmm," Thompson smiled and nodded thoughtfully. With his pursed lips and narrowed eyes, he clearly did not believe her. But he wasn't ready to pursue that line of inquiry just yet. First he needed to get Lester off the premises and secure the remainder of the staff to consolidate his position.

Lester allowed himself to be escorted from the building in handcuffs, his swagger never faltering, flanked by two armed police officers. The rest remained behind, covering the security team with their weapons, ready to take instructions from Commander Thompson. Above their heads, known terrorist Captain Becker and Team Leader Matt Anderson had observed the exchange in silence. Glancing at Matt, Becker frowned.

"Falsified evidence? What?" he mouthed, a little peeved at only now being privy to this information. But Matt shook his head in reply.

"Don't know, mate," he mouthed back, the confusion on his face assuring Becker that he was sincere.

Commander Thompson, having furnished himself with extensive knowledge of ARC employees, looked at the four remaining members of the Alpha Team and sighed loudly.

"Where are Captain Becker and Matthew Anderson?" he demanded, his smugness replaced by irritation.

The team shook their heads in unison, accompanied by a chorus of:

"I don't know," "I have no idea," "I'm not sure," and "Who?" (the last being Connor). Thompson exhaled loudly in exasperation. They were clearly trying to be funny and he really didn't have the time for this. He called back to the men he had brought with him.

"Lock them up in the panic room for the time being. And stand guard." He paused. "Shoot them if they try any heroics." He grinned at Jess's gasp of surprise. "And I want this facility searched - every lab, every storage room, every crawl space and ventilation duct. Find Captain Becker and Matt Anderson and bring them to me immediately!" When the men didn't move, the Commander's voice rose, his agitation increasing. "Well, what are you waiting for? Move it!" he ordered in the tone of a man used to authority, used to having his orders obeyed. And the men did obey, hauling Jess, Abby, Connor and Emily out of the Ops Room and towards the panic room. Abby resisted for a moment before a gun was pressed against her cheek. Connor squeaked in horror, begging her to comply with huge brown eyes and a rapid shake of his head. Reluctantly, and battling with her natural instinct to fight, Abby relaxed her stance and allowed the armed man to drag her from the Hub.

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><p>Commander Thompson smiled a self-satisfied smile and sauntered towards the ADD. Running his hand along the keyboard he admired the equipment, dismantling it with his eyes, trying to reverse engineer it in his head. His attention was distracted by an altercation behind him.<p>

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you thought, Lieutenant!" sneered Sergeant Collier, pushing against Carter's shoulder with his fist.

"I know him well enough and he's not capable of being a terrorist!" retorted Lieutenant Carter, angrily.

"Everyone's capable, Carter. Hell, even Lester is corrupt - he falsified evidence just to get Becker off the hook!" yelled Collier, right into Carter's face.

Carter pushed him back. "You take that back, soldier!"

"I will not!" shouted Collier. "Becker's a criminal, Lester's a criminal! And I will not be party to any of it. And now Becker's slunk off into hiding instead of manning up and taking responsibility for the murder of all those people!" He looked around him, spitting his words into the air, "You'd better hope you don't run into me today, Becker! You are the worst kind of coward - killing innocent people and then allowing others to take the punishment you deserve!"

His tirade was cut off by Carter's fist in his face and an all out brawl ensued, with some soldiers getting in their own kicks and punches, whilst others attempted to pull the two senior officers apart.

Above them, Becker grinned at Matt. "That's our cue. Come on!"

Sergeant Hicks hooked his arms around Carter's ribs and hauled him back, the effort taking all the strength he had.

"Leave it, sir, he's not worth it!" he hissed at his Commanding Officer.

Carter, wiping blood from his mouth and breathing heavily, never took his angry glare from Collier's face.

"Whose side are you on, Hicks?" he snarled, curling his lip aggressively.

"Captain Becker's of course," replied Hicks immediately. "He's the most unlikely terrorist I've ever met!"

He felt Lieutenant Carter relax slightly and let go of him, satisfied he wouldn't attack Collier further.

Commander Fred Thompson strolled across the Ops Room, slowly clapping his hands in appreciation of the display of testosterone and aggression.

The men stopped mid stand-off and turned their attention to the short, stocky man. He grinned sardonically at Carter. "At least I know where your loyalties lie." He smirked and clicked his fingers twice. Two armed police officers moved forward for instructions.

"Lock Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Hicks in the guest quarters for the time being - until I decide on alternative disciplinary action."

As Carter and Hicks were hauled away, protesting loudly regarding their impending incarceration, Thompson ascended the steps and regarded Sergeant Collier with narrowed eyes.

"You report to me now, soldier, is that understood?" he demanded, menacingly.

Collier clicked his heels to attention. "Sir, yes sir!"

Thompson nodded, pleased but wary. He had read the file on Christine Johnson and was not about to make the same mistake.

"You've just been promoted to Lieutenant," he told Collier, who grinned hugely at his new boss. "Now get your men back to barracks and then report to Medical to have that mess on your face looked at."

Collier nodded, wiping blood from his nose, and Thompson turned away, dismissing the soldier. Before Collier could initiate his instructions, the Commander turned back to his new 2IC.

"Don't disappoint me, Lieutenant Collier," he advised quietly and left the threat hanging in the air.

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><p><strong>AN So, it's a welcome return for "Ceiling-Becker" but what are Becker and Matt up to? Will they be discovered? And BAD Lieutenant Collier - he is being a very naughty boy!**

**Please review - there will be badass Becker next chapter! (Yaay!)** **:D**


	7. The Panic Room

**A/N Firstly apologies for the delay in updating! This chapter has been written, re-written and then re-written some more! My problem is I see the entire chapter flashing through my brain like an action film - but the action always goes too fast for me to write it all down so it never quite ends up being exactly what I see in my head (am I making any sense?). What I need is a plug-in that allows me to connect my brain directly to my computer so you guys can all see what I do! Do you think Connor could invent one for me please? **

**Anyway, this is only half the chapter but I have been reminded (repeatedly) by ALP how long its been since my last update and decided that half an update was better than none!**

**Hope you enjoy it and see what I see!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. But Becker and I have a timeshare agreement - he owns his body for 2 weeks of the year. For the other 50 weeks - ITS ALL MINE! HEHEHEHEHEHE :D :D :D :D :D**

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><p>Matt and Becker dangled for a moment from the steel support struts that linked the concrete pillars across the underground car park, their biceps tensing under the strain of their weight. Dropping to their feet with a soft thud, Becker immediately turned on the Team Leader.<p>

"Matt, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, his voice quiet but urgent.

Matt shrugged. "No idea, mate."

"Seriously?" Becker's was incredulous. He had always assumed MI6 were coming for him and him alone. Lester's arrest, and the shocking revelation of the charges against him, had shaken Becker's usually impassive demeanour. He closed the distance between himself and Matt to ensure he didn't have to raise his voice; he was so close he was almost nose to nose with the Team Leader.

"Matt, if Lester falsified evidence to MI6 they will hang him out to dry! Then me, as I'm still labelled a terrorist, and then the whole team as accessories after the fact!"

Becker's agitation increased as Matt appeared indifferent to this information. "They have access to everything and infinite resources." Becker hissed directly into Matt's face. "Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

Matt didn't even flinch but met Becker's harsh gaze with a steely one of his own. He sighed heavily; of course he understood the severity of the situation. He just wasn't worried about something which he could do nothing to change at present. Lester appeared to have been expecting his own arrest and until they could determine the what, how and why of it, Matt saw little reason to panic over it. He smirked at Becker's intense and anxious expression. The soldier would not be best pleased that Matt thought he was panicking. Still, there was nothing either of them could do for Lester from the underground car park. And besides, there were more important things to worry about.

Putting a placating hand on Becker's arm, he reassured the soldier in his usual soft tones, his brow creasing with empathy for his friend who had already endured so much.

"Of course I do, mate. But first we've got to release the others and get out of here. We're of no use to Lester locked up by MI6 ourselves."

Becker stepped back, his eyes sizing up Matt as if to determine the other man's sincerity. Matt could almost see the conflict in Becker's head as he decided whether to be rational and follow Matt's lead, or give in to his need to take on MI6 single-handed. Becker shut his eyes and sighed loudly as rationality won out. His face calmed and his impassive mask closed over his features once more as he accepted Matt's leadership. Then he nodded once and ducked down behind the nearest parked car, indicating to Matt that he should do the same. Matt huffed quietly to himself, shaking his head at the soldier's infinite capacity for paranoia, before following suit.

The two men traversed the car park toward the panic room, hunkering down behind car after car to avoid detection. As they drew closer to their destination, Becker stopped suddenly. Using hand signals, he indicated to Matt to stay put whilst he crossed to the other side of the car park allowing them to take out the guards from both sides. Matt nodded his agreement. Becker moved soundlessly across the structure, taking refuge behind each wide concrete pillar for a moment, checking his enemies location, before continuing to the far side of the car park and sliding down the side of one of the ARC pick-up trucks, out of sight of the guards but with a direct view to Matt on his left.

Becker performed a quick reconnoitre of the situation, his brain processing the information regarding the number and position of the guards in an instant. Using hand signals again he relayed the information to Matt. With two fingers he pointed to his eyes, then held up three fingers and pointed to Matt indicating he saw three guards on Matt's side of the car park. Becker then performed the same hand signals but pointed to himself instead, meaning he had three guards to deal with as well. Matt raised his thumb, letting the soldier know his message was received and understood. Becker held up three fingers once more. This time it was a countdown - 1, 2, 3 and the men, both unarmed, began their assault on the panic room.

The six guards stationed outside the panic room were all armed with small semi-automatic firearms, complete with silencers, but they neither saw nor heard Becker or Matt's approach. Becker dangled once more from the steel struts, wrapping his legs around the first man's neck and squeezing tightly with his thighs. The guard dropped his gun and it made a small clatter as it bounced on the concrete. The guard's hands grasped desperately at Becker's limbs to try and force the soldier's legs apart and allow himself to breathe. Unfortunately for him it was to no avail and a few minutes later he slumped quietly to the floor next to his weapon. Becker grinned and landed as quiet as a cat, his feet either side of the downed man's body. He tensed, ready to move on to his next target.

Matt took cover behind a concrete pillar before he engaged his first guard. He made a small scraping sound with his foot, loud enough to gain the guard's attention but just non-descript enough for the man not to call for back-up via his Comms. The guard moved forward to investigate but, still cautious, stopped short of the pillar and began to edge round it carefully. Matt's arm shot out lightning fast and his fingers gripped the guard's uniform securely. Before the man had time to react, the Team Leader slammed the guard's head forcefully into the pillar, knocking him out cold. With exceptional reflexes, Matt caught the gun before it hit the floor and then gently lowered his target to the ground, hidden from view behind the concrete column. Catching sight of Becker he met the soldier's eyes and both men acknowledged the other with a small nod.

The remaining four guards were a different story. Two of them stood exposed between the final row of pillars and the panic room itself, in full view of the two men guarding the panic room doors. It would be impossible to neutralize the first set of men without alerting the second. Becker and Matt both independently decided to try to use this to their advantage; to mount a fast and noisy attack hoping to distract the two guards away from the doors and draw them into the adrenaline-fuelled fray before they realized they should have called for back-up first.

Becker roared as he charged forward. His target shouted in surprise, raising his firearm towards the blur of black motion. Becker dodged the trained weapon by dropping down to his hands and lifting his feet up, tackling the man's legs at the back of his knees. The guard toppled backwards, his silenced gun discharging rapidly into the air, the bullets ricocheting off the concrete ceiling with loud clangs and whizzes, before being knocked from his hand by the force of his own body slamming into the concrete floor. Instantly his comrades came to his rescue, the first engaging Matt and the two nearest the door joining in instead of calling for assistance as anticipated.

Matt had leapt at his man and was engaged in a fist fight, having disarmed the guard by repeatedly smacking his wrist against the corner of the nearest concrete pillar. Now he took every opportunity to inflict further damage to the man's injured wrist, trying to gain himself an advantage. Unfortunately for Matt, this man seemed to soak up the pain, parrying and returning blow after blow. As the guard's fist came into contact with Matt's jaw he was flung backwards and became aware of a second man approaching rapidly from behind him. In a move that would have earned the approval of Jean Claude Van Damme, Matt twisted and raised his leg in a high kick, catching the second guard high on the side of his head, knocking his Comms from his ear and sending the man sprawling onto the ground and his weapon clattering noisily under the nearest parked car.

Becker, meanwhile, had rolled with his momentum closer toward the panic room and the door guard. Whilst the first still languished on the floor, Becker wrestled with the second for control of his gun. His left hand covered the firearm, twisting, pulling and wrenching at it, whilst his right traded blows with his opponent. Tiring of this time consuming struggle, Becker paused for a fraction of a second. The guard stopped fighting in surprise, giving Becker the edge he wanted. Grinning like a maniac, his eyes glinting under the harsh artificial lights of the car park, Becker smashed his elbow up under the man's jaw, the blow originating from his shoulder for maximum force. He had the satisfaction of feeling the man's grip on the gun slacken and hearing the sickening crunch of breaking bone as the guard's jaw shattered, sending pieces of bone up into his nose. The man, now bloodied and in agony, staggered backwards, releasing the weapon into Becker's waiting hand. Still grinning, Becker finished the job by pistol whipping the guard's temple rendering him unconscious on the cold concrete.

The first guard had just about got back onto his feet when Becker turned on him, his face now spattered with another man's blood. The guard, who was just a young man in his early twenties, visibly paled as he faced the grinning soldier. Becker chuckled and waited, moving only to raise one eyebrow. Not wanting to be branded a coward, even though the young man's first instinct was to run away, the guard surged forward directly at Becker. Ready for him, Becker twisted away and landed a heavy punch right between the man's shoulder blades. With a loud "Oof" the young man staggered but, to his credit, remained on his feet. Becker was immediately behind him, one hand gripping the guard's wrists at the small of his own back, the other arm gripping round his throat and constricting, slowly. All the young man could do was kick his legs aimlessly and to little effect. Not wishing to kill such a young man, who was so obviously simply following orders, Becker only exerted enough force to restrict the flow of blood and oxygen to the guard's brain, causing him to rapidly lose consciousness, rather than breaking the windpipe or snapping his neck which would have killed him instantly. Feeling his captive's body sag, Becker lowered them both down to the concrete as carefully as he could, not releasing his grip until he felt every ounce of tension relax from the young man's limbs.

Matt still battled his two opponents, clearly both ex-military. As he was distracted by the door guard, the first man surreptitiously disappeared between the parked cars. Matt sparred with the door guard, his forearms parrying blows, receiving and returning well placed kicks to the face and torso. Matt lost his patience. His face creased into a furious frown as his short stocky body barrelled into the larger man, knocking him off his feet onto the cold, hard floor. Gaining the upper hand from this manoeuvre, Matt sat on top of the man's chest, pounding his head and face with punch after well aimed punch. He felt pleasure and satisfaction start to take hold as he watched the guard's face become bruised and bloodied under his blows. Eventually, one final blow to the guard's right eye was enough to stop the man from struggling as his mind gave in to the blackness. Matt rolled from his inert form, thoroughly exhausted, having momentarily forgotten about the second man.

The forgotten guard emerged from a dark corner of the car park and, having retrieved the unconscious man's firearm, he aimed it directly at Matt's head as he lay on his back on the concrete. Smiling smugly, the guard spoke into his Comms.

"Sir, I have Mr Anderson in custody outside the panic room. Medics are required but the fugitive is secure." He nodded at the response in his earpiece and began to walk forward towards the Team Leader.

Matt pushed himself away with his feet and elbows, his arms raised, palms forward, indicating his surrender. The guard grinned mockingly, his finger tensing on the trigger of the gun he trained on Matt.

"I have the authority to shoot to kill, so I suggest you don't try anything," he warned, his voice low and menacing, trying to intimidate his quarry.

Intent on Matt, he had neglected to notice Captain Becker. With the unconscious young man virtually sitting in his lap, and not wishing to draw attention to himself, Becker slowly edged his arm forward, his hand sliding down into his combat boots to retrieve his knife, which he withdrew with equal caution. He watched as the guard moved further forward, looming over Matt, the muzzle of the gun barely a few feet from Matt's face.

"In fact, you don't need to try anything for me to shoot you." The guard continued. "I could just squeeze the trigger right now and I'd probably get a medal!" The guard began to laugh, the sound echoing round the large, cavernous structure.

Matt scrunched up his eyes in anticipation and tried to press his body as close to the concrete floor as he could in a vain effort to place as much distance between himself and the gun as possible. He'd never really thought about dying. Not until now. Not until Emily. Now he couldn't think about dying. All he could think about was Emily. She consumed his vision: the turn of her head, the long line of her neck, her pouting lips when she thought he was giving her orders, the flash of defiance in her soft brown eyes, the fiercely spirited woman trying desperately to release herself from the bondage of her Victorian upbringing.

Suddenly the guard's crowing was cut off mid laugh and there was a wet thud in the sudden silence.

Matt opened his eyes as the man's body fell across his legs, the black hilt of Becker's serrated knife protruding from his neck. Grinning with relief and wriggling his legs from under the guard's body, Matt twisted to look at the soldier. Becker was standing up having pushed the unconscious young guard from his lap and, gazing down at Matt, he saluted the Team Leader with a smirk. Matt nodded his thanks and Becker jogged over to pull him to his feet.

"Well, that was fun," announced Becker, grinning as he retrieved his knife, his body still pounding with adrenaline.

"Nice work," agreed Matt, surveying the four damaged bodies at their feet. Then he gestured at Becker's face. "You've got a little something -" he started and shook his head with a half smile as the soldier wiped away the remaining blood spatters on the hem of his t-shirt.

Patting each other on the back, in relieved camaraderie, they strode to the panic room door and Matt entered the code that released the locking mechanism with a loud bleep.

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><p>In the panic room, the four occupants could not hear the fight that raged outside. Two paced up and down, worried and a little afraid that maybe both Matt and Becker had been hurt or captured. Both women refused to acknowledge that either of the two men may have been killed. Abby and Connor huddled together to one side, giving Emily and Jess space to pace and fuss and worry. Barely a word was spoken. Just reassuring glances and comforting squeezes of arms and hands passed between the four friends. It was into this tense silence that a loud bleep caused them all to jump and Emily and Jess to stop pacing and grasp each other closely in fearful anticipation.<p>

When the panic room door opened to reveal the Team Leader and the soldier, the tension gave way to pandemonium. Abby and Connor rose to their feet, each loudly exclaiming the two men's names. Emily ran to Matt, his name on her lips, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug before pulling back to examine him for injuries, as he ducked and dived, embarrassed, under her hands. Eventually he cupped her face in his hands, capturing her eyes with his, just wanting to gaze at her and realise what he had come so close to losing. Jess screamed and leapt at Becker, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms curled around her, one hand around her waist, the other finding refuge in her hair, cradling the back of her head and caressing her warm scalp. He relished her feel and her scent for a brief moment before suddenly jerking away, an irritated frown on his face. Jess stared up at him with moon-like eyes, wondering what on earth she had done so quickly to annoy him.

His hands gripped her arms roughly as he bent down to speak close to her face.

"Jess, we should be in Lockdown by now!" he asserted gruffly. "What happened?"

The field co-ordinator pouted at his assumption and shrugged off his hands. Stepping back slightly, she grasped his forearm and turned it over, staring at the watch resting snugly on the inside of his wrist.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1 -" she counted down and, just as she reached zero the red lights flashed, the klaxon blared and the insistent, monotone female voice proclaimed:

"LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN, LOCKDOWN"

Becker gaped, eyebrows raised, at Jess who smiled back, very smugly.

"Oh how little faith you have! I put the Lockdown on automatic timer," she advised the astounded man. She shrugged. "I figured it was best if they thought everything was all right until they had locked us up. If we had gone into Lockdown whilst we were still in Ops they would have just dragged me over to the ADD and forced me to fix it."

Becker grinned and gently trailed a finger down her cheek affectionately.

"You really are amazing," he murmured softly, causing her to blush and beam her smile at him.

"Becker, we're out of time," Matt spoke urgently, reminding the soldier tersely that back-up had been called and they would have unwanted company very shortly. He was already waiting at the exit doors, holding tightly onto Emily's hand. Becker dragged his eyes from Jess and retrieved a small PDA from his combat trousers which he handed to Connor.

"Get us to the Loading Bay Doors, Connor." He commanded, taking hold of Jess's hand and pulling her towards Matt. With Matt on point and Becker watching their six, the small group made their way cautiously from the panic room, across the car park towards the Loading Bay Doors. Becker attempted to shield Jess from the dead man just outside the panic room. Her badly suppressed gasp informed him that he was unsuccessful. Mostly he worried about how much death the young field co-ordinator was exposed to, worried about how quickly her optimism and joy would be jaded by it. But a part of him also worried that she would know he had killed that man and how much he had enjoyed it. And whether that knowledge would eventually shatter her good opinion of him. He rushed her along, almost lifting her off her feet in his effort to protect her from the truth.

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><p><strong>AN So, that's the first half. Will the team make it out? What will MI6 do to stop them? Will any of them be hurt trying to escape?**

**Please review - they make me a very happy bunny! And I promise the next update will be posted much sooner! :D :D :D**


	8. The Escape Part 1

**A/N Hello everyone. Well, I got a bit carried away with this chapter and have decided to upload it in two parts but I hope you enjoy it. I do have some thank yous - firstly to lovingthis for helping me and to SLP for being awesome! Secondly, a very big thank you to all of you for your love and support last weekend when I needed it most - I hope the issue is resolved now but please know that I appreciate each and every one of you! And lastly, thank you to SadenAnderson who read and reviewed every single chapter of If Tomorrow Never Comes in a single afternoon - you, my friend, are a LEGEND! :D :D :D**

**Oh and lastly, when I wrote this chapter I imagined Becker was listening to "Eye of the Tiger" in his head. Odd, I know, but go with it... :P**

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><p>Jess Parker was scared. More scared than she had ever been in her whole life. More scared than when she had diffused a bomb; that whole incident now rose-tinted in her mind. Even more scared than when she had faced down a future predator. She could handle them. She had handled them - twice! It was just indefinably scary being crushed against Becker as he half dragged and half carried her across the car park. His body radiated tension; it was in every muscle and every tendon of his ferocious grip. And if something in the world made Becker tense, then it was something to be afraid of. She found herself wishing she had just initiated the Lockdown immediately, before the team got hauled off to the panic room. Then she would be safely upstairs with her beloved ADD, pretending to show some MI6 thugs how to disengage the protocol. Well, maybe not safely, as such, she mused. But then, who was she kidding? She would rather be in the most dangerous of situations with Becker than locked in the safest of underground bunkers without him. She managed a small smile to herself as her heel dragged on the concrete for the umpteenth time; she would follow this man to hell and back if he asked her to.<p>

The team reached the loading bay doors without incident, except for the occasional shouts of MI6 operatives who had clearly found their fallen colleagues. Thankfully, the Lockdown protocol had prevented many from making their way down to the car park.

Becker released Jess onto her own feet and she swayed for a moment getting her legs back. Taking in her surroundings she frowned and stamped her shoe, the loud crack reverberating around the concrete structure.

"Damn it!" she cried in a rare display of irritation.

Matt spun round and hissed "Shhhhh!" and the others drew closer to her nervously.

She gestured in frustration at the SUV blocking the loading bay doors.

"The car is still here! I was supposed to help Carter look for the keys this morning so it could be moved!" she complained, this time in more hushed tones.

Becker grinned from the side of the vehicle, his arm raised and a metallic object dangling from his fingers.

"But I never lost them!" he exclaimed, twitching an eyebrow, enjoying Jess's incredulous expression. He tossed the keys to Matt who caught them deftly with one hand.

"Get everyone in the truck, Matt," Becker instructed. "You're driving!"

Returning his grin, Matt nodded and unlocked the SUV. Emily seated herself in the front passenger seat as Abby climbed into the rear. Jess placed one foot on the step to lift herself into the truck before she stopped and frowned at Becker.

"Becker, we aren't going to all fit in there," she told him, a part of her already knowing what he was going to say. "There are six of us and only five seats!"

Becker reached behind him, still grinning, the tension in his body now giving way to excitement. He pulled off the tarpaulin covering the flatbed and turned back to Jess.

"Its fine. I'm riding in the back. If they chase after us, which they will, we will need someone to protect our six. Right Matt?"

Connor gave Becker a high five. "You're our rear gunner, mate!" he chuckled enthusiastically as Becker inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Right," confirmed Matt, quietly, his gaze flicking to Jess, waiting for her outburst. He was not disappointed.

Jess leapt away from the door of the truck and grabbed hold of Becker's arm.

"No!" she shouted, almost into his face. Her fear was palpable, her small face was as white as the knuckles of her hand that gripped the soldier's forearm. Her eyes searched his, pleadingly. She had just got him back. She couldn't lose him again, not so soon. "Becker, you can't! You just can't! You'll get yourself killed! I just know you'll be killed! They won't be using EMDs, you know!" She tried to keep her voice strong but ended with a tremble anyway.

Becker's eyes glinted and his smile became maniacal as he reached behind him into the flatbed of the truck, drawing out an SA80 L85 assault rifle.

"Neither will I!" he said smugly, unable to contain his pleasure.

As his hands clasped the cold metal, Becker felt an immediate warmth flood his palms, a comfortable familiarity that had been sorely lacking of late. He closed his eyes and an expression of pure rapture passed over his face. It was a blissful, serene moment as his fingers slowly caressed the weapon. His joy was brief, however, as a few seconds later Jess's hands gripped his shoulders.

If his excited declaration had been intended to reassure Jess, it unfortunately had the opposite effect. She shook him forcefully, her face full of panic, unable to prevent the fear deep down inside her from bubbling over.

"No, Becker!" she pleaded, hating herself for her obvious display of weakness, knowing he must despise her for it, and yet unable to prevent the pitiful tone of her voice.

Becker opened his eyes but his military mask had already descended, his features flat and still and impassive, and he ignored the young woman clutching at his chest.

"Connor, get those damned doors open!" he barked, impatiently.

"On it!" affirmed Connor, tapping furiously at small PDA.

Becker stared at Matt. "Get her in the car, mate," he told the Team Leader without any intonation in his voice and without looking at Jess even once. His met Matt's eyes, twitched an eyebrow and the ex-soldier understood immediately. He was more than aware of the dangers of distraction. Gripping Jess firmly, he wrenched her away from Becker and man-handled her to the car.

The young woman fought him all the way, shouting and kicking, continuing to plead with Becker. But he had already turned away, back to the flatbed of the truck, fishing for something on the metal floor. Jess struggled with Matt but he lifted her bodily off the floor and shoved her inside the back seat of the vehicle. Abby, already in the cabin, reached for Jess, her arms outstretched, talking to her the whole time, in the same tone of voice she used to soothe frightened or aggravated animals.

"Its ok, Jess. Just get inside the truck. Everything's going to be ok." Her face was full of reassurance and, faced with both Matt and Abby, Jess was forced to submit and allow herself to be buckled into the seat next to the zoologist. She felt tense and nervous, with a huge weight of foreboding pressing down on her skull. Something was going to go dreadfully wrong, she was sure of it.

Connor leapt into the seat next to her and Matt slammed the door closed. Becker placed his hand firmly on Matt's arm before he could run round to the driver's side and handed him a small 9mm handgun.

"For emergencies." he told the Team Leader. "It's loaded with a 30 round magazine so use it sparingly."

Matt nodded and took the gun, handing it to Emily through the passenger window before diving round the car and installing himself behind the steering wheel. Gripping the wheel, he gazed round at his passengers, hoping he would be able to keep them all alive.

Becker braced his hands on the side of the truck and swung his legs up and over into the flatbed. Jess felt the thud as his feet landed on the metal floor and swallowed hard, trying to contain the nausea threatening to rise up from the pit of her stomach. She twisted in her seat and could see the back of Becker's head through the rear window. He was tying himself to the load straps in an effort to prevent his being thrown from the vehicle during their escape. As she watched, the back of his skull exploded outwards, covering the rear window in bright red blood and dull white fragments of bone and skin. Terrified, she scrunched up her eyes and bit back a scream, pressing her body back down into her seat. She was shuddering like a terrified puppy, the nausea threatening to overwhelm her again, her sense of foreboding increasing by the second. Taking a long, deep breath she forced herself to open her eyes and look back at the window. Becker was still out there, now secured, prepping his weapons for war. Her vision had been so real and yet it had all been in her mind. Or maybe out of it. Yes, that's it, she was going out of her mind.

The loading bay doors began to grate their way upwards, slowly, oh too slowly, making an horrendous scraping noise, metal on metal, alerting anyone who may be waiting beyond them. When they were halfway open, and with barely enough headroom to permit the SUV through, Matt started the engine. There were two loud bangs on the roof of the truck - Becker indicating that he was ready to roll. Jess jumped wildly at the noise, her breathing loud and rapid, and Abby grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly.

Matt glanced at Emily to his left, a moment passing between them, ever so brief but long enough to express his apprehension mixed up with the depth of his feelings for her. She reached out her long, slender fingers and traced them down his forearm, placing his hand firmly on the gear stick. Matt's expression hardened as he focused on the task ahead, his attention now placed determinedly through the windscreen as, with a screech of rubber, he floored the truck and lurched out of the loading bay and into the bright light of the outside.

In the large, wet courtyard, the concrete still slick and glistening from a recent shower, were parked six silver Mercedes-Benz E63 AMG saloons. Lounging against them, bored and lethargic MI6 agents waited for instructions from their Commander. Some looked round without much interest as the loading bay doors grated open and were initially unconcerned. Suddenly, a black SUV revved loudly and shot out of the loading bay, taking them all by surprise. There was total confusion as MI6 agents began shouting and running to their cars, four suited men to a vehicle.

Becker immediately took advantage of their disorganisation and dispatched the Mercedes to his right with a short burst of machine rifle fire. It chattered loudly, its bullets penetrating the metal of the AMG, littering it with holes, deflating the tyres on its 19 inch alloy wheels and finally causing a large, metal-wrenching explosion before a single man had time to reach it. Feeling the recoil of the weapon against his shoulder, Becker was enjoying himself now, in full combat mode, his brain focused only on destroying the enemy.

The SUV struggled to find grip on the slippery surface of the courtyard as Matt pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, unconsciously grinding his teeth and tensing his muscles with the effort of preventing the swinging motion caused by the excess speed. Inside the cabin, Jess squeaked and buried her head against Abby's shoulder, the older girl's arm snaking around her protectively. Connor was thrown against the door of the truck and "Oof-ed" as quietly as he could, whilst Emily stared at the exploded car with wide eyes, her fingers gripping the handrail above her head as if her life depended on it. Her expression as she glanced at Matt told him that it just possibly might.

Becker was thrown against the side of the flatbed as the truck shimmied and shuddered and this momentary distraction allowed the remaining MI6 operatives to reach their cars and open fire on the speeding SUV. Bullets ricocheted off the metal body, peppering the nearside with holes, but, thankfully, they did not penetrate the cabin. Connor yelled and threw himself bodily over both Jess and Abby, shielding them, hoping that any stray bullets would find a home in his back and spare his flatmate and fiancee. His hand gripped Abby's arm and held on, needing to touch her, to have some measure of contact with her, as he scrunched his eyes tightly closed.

Matt headed straight for the cast iron gates ahead of him.

"Get down!" he ordered as he drove at them head-on, glancing in the rear view mirror at Becker, hoping to God the soldier was securely tied down.

He didn't have time to dwell on it though as they crashed through the gates. The truck's metal body groaned in protest at the force but kept going. Becker ducked down into the flatbed as one of the gates sailed over the truck, nearly taking off the top of his head. He huffed out a breath into his cheeks, relieved at this near miss, then lifted his head in time to see the gate smash through the windscreen of the closest AMG, killing its occupants instantly and sending the now out of control vehicle crashing into the gatehouse. He grinned as he reached for his SA80. Two down, only four to go. The odds were getting better. Narrowing his eyes, his focus now fully trained on the remaining cars, Becker opened fire.

Matt swung the SUV out of the ARC, turning left onto the road. The truck's momentum lifted one wheel off the ground and flung Becker once more across the flatbed. He slammed into the side of the SUV, his body curved over the metal cases that were also being hurled around by the motion of the vehicle. Grimacing as he pulled himself upwards, he decided he would be thoroughly bruised and battered when this was all over. Then he smiled grimly to himself. That was the least of his worries. He was more likely to be dead!

Four silver Mercedes bounced hard on their suspension as they charged after the truck, the operatives inside all aiming machine pistols from the passenger windows and opening fire on the escapees. Matt threw the truck across the road, weaving from left to right in a bizarre form of slalom, attempting to make the large vehicle a more difficult target. Becker compensated for the sudden changes in direction by bracing his feet against the sides of the truck in an effort to keep his body steady. He kept up a steady stream of bullets at the two closest cars, the remaining two were only a short distance behind. He felt the truck speed up, the engine screaming as it neared its limits and he knew they would be never be able to outrun the Mercedes. It was up to him, and only him, to ensure their escape. He opened fire again but was forced to take cover as the MI6 operatives sidled up to the rear corner of the SUV. This time their bullets hit home, gouging large holes into the metal body, the steel shrieking in agony as it was ripped apart. One projectile hit the rear window, the shattered glass raining down on Jess's head as she screamed in terror. The young woman had clapped her hands firmly over her mouth in an effort to stop but the scream came anyway.

"Get down!" shouted Matt again, his tone tinged with a small amount of panic.

Connor and Abby immediately unbuckled and flung themselves to the floor of the cabin, dragging Jess with them, even as she fought to remain upright. She didn't know why it was so important to remain seated where she was but suddenly it felt like the only thing she had to do. Almost as if, once she couldn't see Becker anymore, he wouldn't exist anymore. She shuddered as she huddled down in between Abby and Connor. Now she was just being silly.

Matt nodded at Emily. "Can you handle that?" he queried, glancing briefly at the gun in her hand.

"Of course," Emily confirmed, a little petulant that he had to ask.

She dropped the passenger window and leaned out, the gun trained on the cars behind them.

Becker heard Jess's scream and it speared through him, distracting him enough that he did not anticipate one of the Mercedes trying to ram into the car. The resulting jolt threw him backwards and he slammed his head into the side pillar to his left. Shaking his head, a little disorientated, Becker failed to ignore the fear that was slowly curling tighter around his stomach. Not fear for himself; fear for Jessica. His biggest fear - the one that ate him up from the inside, the one that scared him out of his sleep, screaming - the fear of being unable to protect her. It split his focus and again he allowed the Mercedes to get close enough to nudge the rear corner of the truck, almost forcing it into a 180 degree turn. Only Matt's lightning fast reflexes saved them from being run off the road into the ditch as he over-steered in the opposite direction to counter the spin.

Becker re-focused. He was angry now. Bruised, battered and sore. But above all, angry. It wasn't a red hot anger - one that was out of control and lashing out blindly. This was a cold, hard anger that allowed him access to his combat zone. The zone where time slowed down and every movement, every nuance, every slight change in tactics could be anticipated and responded to. Settled and calm, he aimed the SA80 at the nearest car. He waited and anticipated, drawing them in until the perfect moment presented itself. Then he discharged the weapon with as many rounds as he could. All of them hit their mark. The windscreen of the AMG exploded inwards, shards of glass slashing the faces of the men inside the car. The tyres blew out, veering the car violently off course. It was travelling so fast that the loss of its front tyres, combined with a small ditch at the side of the road, flipped the car upwards and it rolled over and over before hitting the side of an embankment on its roof. The vehicle was squashed down by the force of the impact towards the doors, as if it were in a compactor at a recycling plant, crushing the windows and the human occupants within.

Gratified, Becker turned his attention to the second car. At the edge of his peripheral vision, he observed the third Mercedes move closer to take the place of the one now wrecked on the embankment. Bring it on, he thought, depressing the trigger of the SA80 once more. Rounds pinged and ricocheted off the radiator of the second AMG, before one finally penetrated the engine. The bonnet of the car shot upwards, like an exploding gas canister. The resulting fire swept through the inside of the car as if the dashboard were made of kindling and Becker grimaced as he heard the sound of screaming above the roar of the speeding vehicles. Two MI6 operatives never made it out of the car. The other two fell out of the rear passenger doors, both of their bodies on fire, screaming and rolling, trying to put out the flames consuming them until both, eventually, stopped moving. Becker watched, the guilt beginning to creep like an insidious ivy into the back of his mind, ready to consume him as soon as this was over. Only two more to go.

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><p><strong>AN Second half will be up sometime over the weekend - I hope!**

**Please review and let me know what you think! The end is slightly changed in the chapter - I had originally written Becker enjoying the killing a little too much. And now he's not! Ahh, much better! :D**


	9. The Escape Part 2

**A/N Get ready for part two! Will they escape the chasing MI6 operatives? Will Becker survive in the flatbed of the truck? Will they end up in a mangled wreck at the side of the road? Read on to find out! :D :D :D**

**Thanks must go again to SLP and Lovingthis for their unending support and assistance - what would I do without you guys? :D**

**And thanks also to everyone who has reviewed - you are all awesome! And lastly, thanks to all who are adding this story to their favourites and story alerts! Glad to have you along for the ride! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. But if I did I wouldn't be dragging my feet like ITV - just hurry up and show the 5th series please Mr ITV1 Controller**! **It's the only way we'll know if you have enough viewing figures to fund a 6th series! And we're running out of patience! :/ (Okay, rant over, sorry about that!) :D**

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><p>Matt swung the truck around a tight left hand bend. He was trying to avoid taking the chase through overly populated streets - a feat nigh impossible on the outskirts of London. The driver of the third Mercedes missed the turn, distracted by Becker's gunfire, and the vehicle went careering ahead, across waste ground, its suspension creaking awkwardly as it bounced over bumps and potholes. The car rapidly changed direction, dirt and debris flying up from its wheels, making a beeline for the fleeing SUV once again.<p>

"Hang on!" Matt called to the team in the truck as he swung it round a right hand bend, tyres screeching, the rear end lurching out wildly, throwing Becker around like a black clad rag doll.

"Thanks for that, Matt." Becker muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm at bay even when talking to himself.

He had to finish off these last two MI6 cars - before Matt broke all his limbs and scrambled his brain. Standing up in the flatbed to try and gain some small advantage, Becker aimed his SA80 at the nearest Mercedes. It was so close to him now he could see the face of the driver beyond the windscreen and the obvious hatred in his eyes. He could also see the man's grin as he raised his automatic weapon, pointing it directly at Becker, ready to depress the trigger. Wondering what possible reason this unknown man could have to hate him so much, Becker squeezed first, just a millisecond before the MI6 operative, penetrating the man's skull and decorating the dashboard with the contents of his head. The car veered away, glancing off the parked cars at the side of the road before a stationery bus halted it progress. The driver was dead, slumped across the steering wheel, the fatal shot having entered his head through his temple and embedded itself in the headrest behind him. The car doors were so badly mangled they could not be opened from the inside, leaving the other occupants trapped inside with their dead colleague. Becker's eyebrows drew together briefly as the pain of one more unnecessary death added a few more feet to his guilt mountain. But there was still work to do. One more to go.

The driver of the final Mercedes had clearly gained top marks during his advanced driving training. He swerved and weaved as much as Matt did, defying Becker's attempts to disable the car. His colleagues returned Becker's fire, the SUV taking heavy damage to it chassis and bodywork. Over the noise of the engine, Becker could now hear bangs and rattles, suggesting the truck may give out before they had escaped.

Yelling through the shattered rear window of the SUV, Becker instructed Matt to turn off the road as soon as he could. There was a disused industrial estate not too far from their position, with woodland at the back that they may have a half chance of disappearing into on foot if the need arose.

Matt, barely hearing Becker over the road noise, swung the SUV to the left and through the entrance to the industrial estate at the very last second. Everyone in the truck was thrown violently to their right. Abby, Connor and Jess, wedged in the foot well of the back seat, felt like they were being compacted as the g-forces crushed them first against the front seats and then back against the rear with incredible strength. Emily was thrown violently, slightly forwards, banging her head against the rear view mirror before being pushed back against her own headrest, the seatbelt gouging deeply into her shoulder.

Matt gripped the steering wheel with everything he had, determined that the SUV would not topple over with the sharpness of his turn. He fought with the steering, as the wheels lifted on one side, and, much to his relief, managed to rest all four of them back on the tarmac. He grinned as he regained full control of the vehicle - hell, he hadn't had this much fun for, well, for ever really. He glanced round at the truck's occupants, unable to contain his glee.

"Everyone still in one piece?" he asked, chuckling as Connor moaned "Owwwww," in the manner of a five year old child.

Then he became aware that the machine gun fire had ceased. He adjusted the rear view mirror, attempting to see what had become of Becker. The soldier was slumped in the flatbed, the back of his head just barely visible through the hole that was once the rear window, his hair blowing wildly in the wind generated by the speed of the truck.

"Becker!" Matt shouted, hoping he could be heard over the roar of the wind. "Becker!"

There was no response and Matt's brow creased in concern.

"Something's up," he muttered to Emily, trying to keep his voice quiet so that Jess didn't hear.

Emily nodded as an unspoken instruction passed between them. She raised the 9mm pistol. "I'm ready," she told him, confidently.

In his rear view mirror, the soldier began to move, slowly trying to raise the SA80. He fired randomly at the approaching Mercedes but his aim was way off. Matt had to act now, while the SUV was still in one piece and offered them at least some measure of protection. With a short nod to Emily, he yanked on the handbrake as hard as he could. The SUV responded with an ear-splitting squeal of tyres as it was forced into an uncompromising turn. The Mercedes was now hurtling towards the truck, side on, at a terrifying speed.

"Now!" shouted Matt to Emily and she opened fire on the approaching car with the 9mm, a look of steely determination in her glare. Her bullets embedded into the bonnet of the Mercedes and shattered the windscreen but the car kept coming.

Emily heard her own scream, mingling with Matt's, as the heavy example of German precision engineering slammed into the side of the SUV.

The impact spun the truck around, tossing its occupants more violently that at any other time during their escape. Jess remembered feeling like she was flying. Just briefly. Just for a second or two. Before her battered body was slammed back down to earth with such force that all the wind was knocked out of her and she struggled to maintain consciousness. She couldn't breathe. She could only gasp, short and sharp and desperate little sucks of air, that did not contain enough oxygen to keep her brain functioning. Had they stopped? She felt like she was still moving, independently of the vehicle now, and she slumped, disorientated and bruised, onto the cushion of the rear seat.

Matt later considered them to have been extremely lucky. The force of the impact and the motion of the SUV had sent the truck into a spin which pushed them away from the Mercedes before it exploded, killing all on board instantly. The wreckage rolled past them, twisted and smoking, as the Team Leader lifted his head from the steering wheel to find blood trickling down his temple.

Emily was out cold, collapsed on the dashboard, a large red weal forming on the side of her face. Matt gently lifted her backwards, hoping she had not injured her neck, and spoke softly to her, trying to rouse her. At the same time, he called to the others in the back seat, hoping he had been fortunate enough not to kill anyone. He managed a small smile as the thought of all the paperwork crossed his mind. But that smile was soon quashed by thoughts of Lester and that brought him immediately back to reality.

Slowly, as he called her name, Emily came to, blinking rapidly in her confusion. Matt continued to talk to her quietly, asking if she was okay and if she could remember what happened. He asked her if she were hurt, worried about damage to her neck and spine.

"For God's sake, Matt! I'm fine!" she snapped suddenly, tersely and loudly, moving her head to glare at him for fussing over her like an upset child.

Matt grinned back at her. She was definitely okay then and the relief he felt threatened to overwhelm him. He had no idea what he would have done if she had not been all right. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and leaned over the seat to check on the others.

Connor sat up slowly, eyes closed, rubbing his head absently. He opened his eyes as Matt called his name and, as he saw the Team Leader, he suddenly seemed to remember something important. Or someone.

"Abby!" he cried, his voice high and panicked. "Abby!" He looked wildly around the truck and sighed heavily as her blonde head lifted from the foot well, grinning at him.

"Still here," she quipped, seemingly uninjured after their ordeal. She reached out, grabbing Connor's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm fine, Connor," she told him, firmly. "Just fine. You?"

Connor nodded quickly. "Just a few cuts and bruises, thankfully." He paused and turned to glare at Matt.

"What the hell was that, mate? We all could have been killed!" he exclaimed.

Matt met his stare with a raised eyebrow. "Well, we weren't," he stated simply and inclined his head in the direction of the windscreen. "But they were!" He didn't revel in the men's death. He was simply detached from it, unable to feel the same level of guilt as Becker always did.

"Oh!" Abby looked shocked as she saw the tangled wreckage that used to be a Mercedes-Benz.

There was a mumbling between them and both Abby and Connor looked down in surprise as Jess held her head in her hands.

"Is it over? Have we stopped?" she muttered, as much to herself as anyone else.

Abby put her arms around her friend and helped her to sit back on the seat. "Yeah, we've stopped. Are you hurt?"

Jess shook her head slowly, the action causing her brain to ache. "No," she murmured. "Just a little sore." Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with trepidation. "Where's Becker?" she asked, a little hoarsely.

The team tumbled out of the truck, searching for the soldier. He was tangled up in the loading straps, still conscious and still in one piece - but only just. Connor took Abby in his arms and held her close, kissing the top of her head, relieved that the warmth of her body in his arms meant that she was still alive. He hadn't dared believe it until he held her, touched her, breathed in the scent of her hair. He still wasn't sure whether he believed it or not, but he wanted to hang onto the fantasy for a least a little while longer. Matt and Emily untied Becker from the loading straps and, as the soldier lifted his head, Matt was struck by the agony in his eyes.

"Mate?" he asked, softly, suddenly afraid that Becker had been struck by an MI6 bullet.

Becker heaved himself up, sitting in the flatbed, his face scrunched up, deep lines furrowing his brow. The dirt on his face did little to hide the bruises that were beginning to form and, mingling with the blood trickling from his temple and cheekbones, it gave him a wild and haggard appearance. Becker shuffled forwards, refusing all offers of help from both Matt and Emily. Matt dropped the gate at the very rear of the truck and Becker slid down to his feet, wincing as they made contact with the tarmac.

"Becker!" shouted Jess, starting to rush towards him in her relief to see him alive.

Becker stretched out his right arm, his hand held up, palm facing in Jess's direction, as if to ward her away. Jess stopped abruptly, confused, uncertain and mortified by his action. What? What had she done?

It was then that Matt saw Becker's injury. With his right arm raised, it became obvious to Matt that Becker was having trouble moving his left. The arm was twisted at an odd angle, out of synch with his shoulder. Jess started to move forward again, more slowly this time, and Becker glanced at Matt pleadingly. Matt moved forward and intercepted Jess, pulling her into his arms, forcibly keeping her away from Becker. She struggled but Matt murmured softly in her ear.

"He's ok, Jess. Just give him a minute." His gentle Irish voice stilled Jess's struggles and she gazed silently at Becker as he shuffled around the side of the SUV, his right arm still out-stretched, ready to defend against anyone who came too near.

The team watched as Becker made his way round to the nearside pillar of the SUV. Staring at Matt, the soldier turned his body to a 180 degree angle with the side of the truck. With his eyes firmly fixed on Becker, the Team Leader nodded his encouragement almost imperceptibly, and with a tremendous yell Becker slammed his shoulder into the metal pillar with as much force as he could muster.

The crack as the dislocated joint snapped back into place was audible to the waiting team. Connor winced and looked away, feeling faintly sick, as Abby buried her face in his chest, grimacing. Emily started to walk towards Becker, her upbringing demanding that she offer her assistance but Matt reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed him, letting go of Jess at the same time.

Jess shuffled cautiously forward, rounding the bonnet of the SUV, like she was approaching a wounded animal. Becker was sitting on the tarmac, panting and sweating profusely, having slid his body down the side of the truck. His eyes were closed and, unaware that he was being observed, he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, I am pissed off now!"

"Becker?" Jess's voice was small and tremulous.

The man opened his eyes and stared at her, saying nothing.

"Are you okay?" Her words were unsure, interpreting his silence as annoyance at her presence.

Becker's mouth twitched as he soaked in the sight of her. This is what it was all for. All the bruises, the bleeding, the broken limbs. It was all for her. And it was all worth it.

He motioned her over to him and she stumbled on her heels in her rush to comply. Pressing her hands on his good arm, her eyes searched his face whilst her teeth gnawed down on her bottom lip.

"And you're okay, now? Really? You're sure, you're ok?" she gabbled, unable to stop herself.

"I'm fine, Jess, really," he stated, his voice strong and steady. She looked doubtful and the corners of his mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. "It's just a scratch," he joked, echoing words spoken a long time ago.

She managed a faint smile in return and reached out a hand to stroke his face tenderly.

"Help me up?" he asked, knowing she would be pleased that he required her assistance.

That coaxed a smile from her and, pretending to brace some of his weight against her, he pushed himself back up the side of the truck, his thigh muscles protesting with the effort.

His eyes met with Matt again and the Team Leader grinned.

"Back with us now, mate?" he asked, amusement in his Irish lilt.

Becker responded with a curt nod and a question of his own. "Everyone still alive?"

"All accounted for - plus six wrecked Mercedes!" confirmed Matt, feeling quite relieved with how everything had turned out.

Jess stood close by to Becker. But not too close, not wishing to crowd him. She ached to hold him, to feel his hard body against hers, to know that he was well and truly in one piece and not about to drop down dead at any moment. But she was fearful of being pushed away again and so hung back, just out of arms reach. Becker glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and frowned before becoming aware that Matt and Emily were glaring pointedly at him.

He stared at each member of the group. Connor was now holding Abby's hand, not having let go of her since they tumbled out of the SUV. Matt and Emily were standing side by side, each with an arm wrapped around the other and, as he watched, Matt placed a soft kiss to Emily's temple and the woman leaned into his lips, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the sensation. Slowly, the blinkers lifted from his eyes and he realised what he ought to do. What Jess needed him to do.

"Jessica," he murmured, his voice warm and tender. She turned to him and he reached out, his hand curling around her waist and pulling her to him. She gazed up at him in surprise, her mouth forming a startled "o", as he bent his head and placed a gentle kiss to her open lips. Her body moulded against his, and he delighted in its softness, despite the ache in his muscles. The pain began to dissipate with the movement of her lips under his and he clutched her to him, realising he never wanted to let go.

But he did let go. There was still much to do, after all. He clasped her small hand in his and led her back round to the other side of the truck to join the team.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Connor suddenly.

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><p><strong>AN That's a very good question, Connor. What do the team do now? Where will they go? And just what is going on back at the ARC?**

**So many questions...**

**Please review - good guesses will be rewarded with *virtual chocolate chip cookies* :D :D :D**

**BTW, I just had to include my own personal homage to Martin Riggs in this chapter. I love the scene where he pops his own dislocated shoulder back in by slamming it into a concrete pillar and so just had to modify it slightly for Becker. It is so something I can see him doing! Hehehehehehehehehehehe :D  
><strong>


	10. The Coup d'Etat

**A/N So, I promised Lovingthis that I would post a chapter tonight. In fact, she blackmailed me with threats of doing bad things to Bounty - and I couldn't possibly leave the poor creature at her mercy so here it is. It is not quite what I wanted. It rather got away from me. It's mostly filler (and I hate filler) but I wanted to write a gentler chapter with a little more Jecker. Still, the good news is the next chapter will be uploaded much sooner as I have mostly written that already! :D**

**Anyway, hope this will do for now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or Becker (sadly). But, if I did, Becker wouldn't be chasing dinosaurs, he'd be chasing me - and I would just have to let him catch me! :P**

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><p>"So, what do we do now?" asked Connor, suddenly.<p>

"Well, I think that -" began both Becker and Matt at the same moment. They stopped speaking abruptly and stared each other down.

"Matt," Becker stated forcefully. "I know these people. I know what they are capable of and what our next move should be!" Damn it, why was Matt challenging him now? It was hardly the time!

He felt Jess's hand tighten on his forearm but he ignored her gentle warning. In his peripheral vision his brain registered that all eyes of the team were now trained on him but he remained focused resolutely on Matt. The Team Leader, to his credit, stood his ground in front of the larger man; a man who, over the last few eventful months, had grown used to doing things his way.

However, Matt would be damned if he were going to take orders from Becker anymore. It had been fitting when the soldier had re-taken the ARC against the terrorist Kabir. Matt had even accepted that afterwards the upgrades to the ARC security had also been Becker's call. But it had always grated on him how the soldier had kept him out of the loop, not informing him of his suspicions with regards to MI6 until the very last moment. Only yesterday, in fact. It had made him angry and resentful and had irritated the hell out of him. And now, Matt was determined to regain control, to be back in charge. It was, after all, what he had trained his whole life to do. He was a natural leader and he knew how to hold this team together. This was his job and the fact that following Becker's commands had put him in a very bad mood was neither here nor there. It certainly hadn't clouded his judgement in any way. He grinned at himself, acknowledging the little white lie. Bad moods did give one a certain motivation. Now all he had to do was insist that Becker complied.

The Irishman considered the bruised and angry man in front of him briefly before lifting his chin and inflating his chest, just a fraction.

"Becker," his calm, soft voice was an immediate contrast to the soldier's urgent tone. "I believe I am Team Leader out in the field. Therefore, that makes it my decision."

He let his words hang in the air.

Becker raised one eyebrow and tightened his lips but said nothing, so the Irishman continued.

"Look, mate, your input into this situation will be invaluable. Like you said, you know these people better than I do. But, at the end of the day, it's my responsibility to keep the members of this team safe - including you."

Becker rolled his eyes and looked away, having heard all this before when Matt first joined the ARC. It had annoyed him then and it was as annoying as hell now. Particularly when Matt smirked at him, knowing that one sentence had got right under the soldier's skin. Unfortunately, however annoying it was, he was right and Becker knew it. The soldier just wished Matt could be a little less smug about it.

As Becker remained silent, the Team Leader pressed home his quiet authority.

"Listen, we can work together. You can tell me your ideas and I'll tell you if I agree with you or not. And we'll take it from there, ok?"

Becker's eyes narrowed as he processed Matt's proposition. If the truth be told, having the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long had begun to wear him down. He was a foot soldier, as used to taking orders from above as he was to cascading those orders down through the ranks. He discovered that re-establishing the chain of command would not be unwelcome and, if he put a fight and still lost, he would appear weak to the others. Becker had never, and would never, succumb to appearing weak in front of his colleagues. Besides, he reasoned, in-fighting between himself and Matt would only be unsettling for the team. He could see the anxiety in their faces already at this brief altercation. He could feel it in the tense grip of Jess's hand on his arm.

As he pondered he could already feel the burden lifting. Matt was giving him an out. And if Matt wanted the heat, fine, he would let him have it. He didn't have to be in charge to maintain his dignity and authority. And being 2IC again didn't mean he had to follow Matt like a sheep either. He never had before and he wasn't going to start now. So, that was it. He could feel his limbs relax as his mind conceded the argument.

The soldier sighed. His decision, a complete 180, was made the same as every other decision he had ever made in the fluid situation of combat: in a fraction of a second.

"Fine, Matt," he concurred with a nonchalant shrug. "You do the thinking - I'm only here to shoot stuff anyway." There, that was what they expected of him. He liked to shoot stuff, it was what he was best at after all.

And with a curt nod and a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, Becker relinquished control of the operation to the short, stocky Irishman.

Matt's eyes twinkled with amusement and relief at the relatively easy transfer of power. He felt the tension ease from the group and their collective attention shift from Becker in his direction. It was all up to him now, he realised, so he'd better start making some damned good decisions. And fast.

"So, what do we do now?" grinning at Matt, Becker echoed Connor's earlier words.

The Team Leader's eyes flashed with excitement. This was what he loved - thinking out of the box, winging it, so to speak. It gave him such a buzz, a rush of adrenaline that surged through his head making him almost dizzy.

"Firstly, the truck is dead, so we need to get rid of it." He glanced at Becker whose face flickered with disappointment just for a moment. "Sorry, mate."

Becker nodded his agreement. "We'll also need to dispose of anything electronic that we've brought from the ARC. Mobile phones, black boxes, Comms - they can all be easily traced by MI6."

Reluctantly, the team fished around in their pockets, throwing anything relevant into the front of the SUV. Admittedly, it was only Becker and Matt who still had mobile phones - the others having had theirs confiscated before their confinement in the Panic Room.

"So, have we got another vehicle parked somewhere?" asked Connor, not relishing the thought of having to walk too far. It was cold and his lightweight felt coat didn't offer too much in the way of warmth. Abby elbowed him, shaking her head, her amusement met with mock injury in Connor's eyes.

"I -" began Becker, reluctant to admit that he hadn't thought that far ahead.

Matt came to his rescue. He pointed through the industrial estate, towards the wooded area beyond.

"About a mile and a half in that direction I have a car waiting for us." Anticipating Jess's protest, he added, "Don't worry, Jess. It's a people carrier - there's room for all of us."

"We also have a hotel booked - a temporary base from which to plan our next move," interjected Emily, smiling at the incredulous faces of the team.

Becker's jaw dropped slightly. "How -?"

Matt grinned. "I had some money left to me from the sale of my father's house." Only Emily noticed the slight tremor in his voice at the mention of his father and she moved closer to him, touching his arm gently, reassuringly. "It's in an account, in his name, which is untraceable back to me, I assure you. His name is not in my file and no record of any connection between us exists."

"Nice one, Matt," acknowledged Becker, feeling no irritation, just gratitude that he was no longer alone in this.

"Matt, Connor - help me unload the truck," instructed Becker urgently. "Then we can torch it and move out." He was already beginning to remove metal carrying cases from the flatbed. All in all there were five metal cases and three large black holdalls nestling in the boot of the SUV that were soon sitting at their feet on the pavement.

"Becker, what is all this stuff?" asked Abby curiously as she helped pull the last black holdall from the flatbed.

Becker raised an eyebrow and catalogued each case. "Those are two large EMDs, the other metal cases are two small EMDs, and that one is EMD power packs. Not as many as I would have liked but it will have to do for now. This one -" he paused as he pulled the largest case towards him. "This one has a selection of lethal weapons. As many as I could retrieve from the ARC without arousing suspicion and some from my own private collection." He met Matt's concerned gaze defiantly. "They proved useful today, didn't they? We're not going up against dinosaurs here, mate."

Matt nodded and said nothing. He had to admit he agreed with Becker even if he wasn't overly happy about it. Becker continued with his catalogue.

"That holdall contains walkie-talkies for communication, torches, knives - just general stuff that may come in handy."

Matt couldn't help but smile at Becker's preparedness. It appeared he had packed for every eventuality.

"Hey, instead of Action Man - can I call you Boy Scout instead?" chirped Connor before squealing as he was pinched by Abby, hard. His comment was met by a look from Becker which said "Not if you want to live, mate."

"Right, gotcha!" babbled Connor, giving the soldier his best appeasing puppy dog look.

Becker sighed. "That bag contains two hand held anomaly detectors, a dating calculator and a locking device -"

He was interrupted again by Connor. "How did you get your hands on those?" The scientist dropped to his knees, unzipping the bag to make sure the sensitive equipment had not been damaged.

Becker shrugged. "They're out for repair -" he began but couldn't finish his sentence.

"We don't have anything out for repair!" Connor exclaimed. "If we did, I'd know about it!"

Becker smirked. "We do when I mark it as out for repair on the inventory and then stuff it in a bag," he told the man at his feet, smugly.

Connor stared up at the soldier before re-zipping the bag and declaring that the equipment appeared to be in good order.

"We need to go - now," Matt decided, grabbing the two large EMD cases as Becker swung the last, as yet un-catalogued, black holdall onto his back, nestling it like a rucksack between his shoulder blades. Connor, Abby and Emily each took a case leaving Becker the firearms and Jess the EMD power packs. They strode off after Matt, whilst Becker strategically placed a lighter inside the SUV. Jogging, he caught up with Jess just as the truck exploded and tangled metal clanged violently onto the concrete. Jess stopped so suddenly that Becker almost crashed into her. The case dropped from her fingers with a clatter and her breathing became loud and rapid as the sounds behind her triggered unwanted memories. She turned slowly, staring at the wreckage of the SUV, bright orange flames flickering from the shattered windows, the bonnet, now warped and smoking, resting not far from her on the pavement. She gasped, completely unable to breathe. Her mind twisted itself into knots, confusing this event with another that happened months before. One that would be forever with her, a noose around her heart that tightened each time she allowed herself to remember. She shuddered, her eyes dampening until the bright fire was just a blur and the only word that chanted its unending litany in her mind was _no, no, no. _It was all she could do not to fall to her knees in horror as she struggled to keep herself together.

A soft voice eventually pervaded her shock. "Jess?" It was followed by warm fingertips touching her cheek. She felt her head move by means other than her own volition and her eyes focused on a tall man, bruised and battered, but very much alive.

"Jess?" Becker repeated, relieved to have finally regained the young woman's attention. "Jess? What is it? What's wrong?"

Jess just stared at him, shaking her head, unable to comprehend how the SUV had exploded and yet the man who should be dead stood before her, confused and worried. Was he a ghost, an apparition, a hallucination? No, she could definitely feel his fingers on her face, warm and strong - how was that possible? Her brow furrowed, she chewed her lip, unable to fathom the situation. She became aware of a pathetic whimpering sound escaping her lips but was powerless to suppress it.

Becker searched her face for answers. Her behaviour reminded him of how he had found her in the ARC, after convergence, an injured Lester nestled in her lap. He felt panic rising - what had happened to cause her such distress? He looked towards the burning SUV and back to Jess's pale grey face. Dawn broke slowly over the horizon on planet Becker, its rays lighting up his eyes and he could have kicked himself for his own stupidity. He hadn't seen the footage of his faked death, but he had been informed of its display on the ADD. No wonder Jess was so freaked. Her attention had strayed once more to the dying truck, so Becker gently stroked her cheek, bringing her eyes back to his.

"Jess, I'm here. I'm right here," he murmured, his hands touching her hair and her face, trying bring her out of her stupor. Jess blinked and focused on the soldier properly for the first time and Becker's mouth twitched upwards as he sighed in relief.

"Becker?" Jess whispered. "I'm so sorry. When the truck exploded I thought that -"

"Shhh," Becker soothed, gently and then caught her chin between his finger and thumb as her head wandered in the direction of the wreckage again. "Don't look at that, look at me," he commanded softly.

As she gazed into his warm, hazel eyes, so worried, so tender, Jess felt her heart-rate slow and her fear begin to dissipate. How was he able to do this to her? To make her feel so safe, so unafraid, just by standing close to her, by holding her eyes captive with his own. She could feel his strength permeating her skin where his fingertips still caressed her cheek, her flesh warmed and revitalised by his touch. She smiled at him, her colour fully restored, her equilibrium back on an even keel. Reaching down to collect her case, she lifted her chin determinedly and nodded at the soldier.

"We'd better catch up," she told him, her voice holding firm.

Becker clasped her hand, her small fingers completely disappearing into his palm, and tugged her forwards, towards the woods.

His strides lengthened as he attempted to put some distance between them and the burnt out SUV. Jess tottered on her heels beside him, struggling to keep up over the uneven concrete. Seeing that they were making little headway towards the others, Becker stopped and stared down at Jess's feet. He dropped her fingers and held out his hand.

"Shoes, Jess," he demanded, a little shortly.

"What?" Jess looked at him, confused.

"Shoes," he repeated. "Now."

Still not quite understanding what he was getting at, Jess removed her shoes and placed them uncertainly in his waiting hand.

Becker studied them briefly, angling them to get a better look at the four inch heel. Hunkering down by the side of the road, he withdrew the large knife he perpetually kept tucked into his boot. Bracing the shoe against the curb he swung the knife like a machete, separating the heel from the sole in one heavy stroke.

Jess shouted his name, anger bubbling up as she watched her beloved shoes butchered, the heel discarded in the gutter.

"There," he said proudly, standing up. "Now you should be able to walk in them."

Jess lurched forward and snatched the ruined shoes from him.

"How could you!" she screamed at him. "How could you! Becker, these are Christian Louboutin Mexibeads, Boutique Exclusives! I had them shipped directly from the States!"

Becker stared at her, his blank expression wordlessly asking the question: Am I supposed to know what the hell that means?

Jess stepped back from him, cradling the brightly coloured shoes in her arms, cooing to them, trying to repair some of the damage to the hand-beaded footwear. Becker shook his head as he watched her. What had he done wrong? He was only trying to make it easier for her to negotiate what was going to be a very long walk through uneven terrain. A walk he knew the heels would not have survived anyway. And it was only a pair of shoes for crying out loud. What on earth was all the fuss about?

He studied her as she fretted over the shoes, stroking them, talking to them, as if they were small animals frightened by the big, bad man. Then he realised that's exactly what they meant to her. They were her pets, her babies almost, and he, the big, bad man, had killed them. She lifted her head to look back at him, genuine, heart-breaking unhappiness evident in the downturn of her mouth, in her large blue eyes brimming with tears. How was it he was able to upset her so when he had only been trying to help?

He sighed, softening, wanting to comfort her. He hunkered down to her height, tiny as she was without her four inch heels, and cupped her face in his hands.

"Jess, when all of this ends I will buy you a new pair," he whispered. When her expression did not change he twitched his eyebrow and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Okay, I'll buy you two new pairs."

He smirked as her face brightened somewhat.

"Do you promise?" she asked softly, hope seeping into the pitch of her voice.

Becker grinned and he kissed her lightly on the end of her nose.

"I promise," he confirmed, holding her eyes with his and enunciating each syllable slowly, to underline his sincerity.

Jess sniffled and then smiled. Holding his arm, she reached down and replaced the shoes on her feet. Becker caught her hand in his again, pressing it to his mouth tenderly before ploughing on once more towards Matt and the others, now waiting for them impatiently at the edge of the woods.

Jess stumbled on her unfamiliar footwear causing Becker to chuckle. He gazed down at her, a long way down now, tiny as she was, his grip tightening on her hand in an effort to steady her.

"Only you could break your ankle in flat shoes, Jess," he observed, amused.

She grinned up at him, finding her balance long enough to swat at his arm with her hand.

"If I break my ankle, will you carry me?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Becker took that as a challenge and without a word scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Jess squealed as he jogged with her to the waiting team and plonked her unceremoniously back on her feet in front of Matt.

The Team Leader stared at Becker, one eyebrow raised.

"Time to go now, mate?" he queried, his tone a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Becker nodded. "Time to go."

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><p><strong>AN So, thoughts? I struggled with this chapter - please tell me if you loved it or hated it or were left completely indifferent! :D**

**Hope to have another update for you by the weekend - but reviews will keep me writing until then (hint hint!) :P**


	11. The Black Holdall

**A/N Hello everyone - I hope you're still with me. **

**Firstly, let me apologise for my lengthy absence. I've had an awful lot to deal with lately and haven't been on FF much (or had much time to write for that matter!). ****Thank you to everyone reading this for waiting so long for the update! :D**

**Secondly, I must apologise for the short length of this chapter - and the fact that very little actually happens! I was conscious of how long it had been since I'd updated and wanted to post what I had. Hopefully I will have another chapter uploaded by the weekend to make up for it! :D**

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend, SAndyLeePotts, whom I miss very much, in the hope that she will forgive me...**

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><p>Connor sat in Matt and Emily's hotel room - their new temporary hub of operations - staring at the mysterious black holdall that Becker had not allowed to leave his possession since their escape from the ARC. Except, now, the bag was unattended because Becker was in the shower. Thankfully, Emily had packed the people carrier Matt had hired with clothes for each of them. Connor had showered and changed some time before; Becker was the last.<p>

So, taking his chance, Connor had snuck into the room the soldier shared with Jess, while the others were discussing their situation, and retrieved the curious bag. Now, having risked a peek inside it, he sat on Matt's bed, staring at it nervously, thoroughly wishing he hadn't been so inquisitive. What was wrong with him? Why did he always have to put himself in mortal danger like this? He should just put the bag back, right now, so Becker was none the wiser. He could pretend he'd never seen it, act all innocent and -

"Connor?"

When her fiance didn't move, Abby tried again, gently touching his shoulder as she did so.

"Connor?"

The scientist jumped at her touch, as if a child caught up to no good. He lifted his head, a guilty expression on his face and, worried now, Abby sat down on the bed next to him. She inclined her head towards the bag that had been the focus of Connor's concentration.

"What's that?" she enquired, softly.

Connor's face changed from guilt to fear. "Something - you don't want to know."

"Connor," Abby pressed him in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Seriously, you really don't want to know!" exclaimed Connor, a little to loudly. Clapping his hand over his big mouth he mumbled, "He's going to kill me."

"Don't want to know what?" asked Matt, turning to the couple from his position at the table across the room and inviting himself into their conversation.

"Nothing!" squeaked Connor as Abby nudged him and rolled her eyes.

"What's that?" demanded Matt, echoing Abby's words as he, Emily and Jess joined them at the foot of the bed, staring at the innocuous black article.

"That. Is. My. Bag," stated a gruff, low voice from the doorway. They all jumped this time, except for Matt, and turned to face the angry soldier behind them.

Becker glared at them all and Jess noted how dishevelled he looked, like he'd just leapt out of the bathroom and hurriedly dressed, his hair still dripping from his shower. He looked rather fetching actually; his hair a little spiky with water droplets at its ends, a few escaping to trickle down his cheek; his face intense and furious.

Jess found herself becoming very distracted by the tension in his muscles, more than a little obvious under the tight black t-shirt he had thrown on, and even more so by the fact that he hadn't yet bothered to buckle the belt of his jeans, hanging loosely around his hips, the waistband of his boxers just visible. Jess blinked rapidly forcing herself to abandon any further mental meanderings as he began speaking; his voice even and calm - a sure sign that he was highly agitated.

"Would one of you mind telling me how it came to be in here?"

"Connor had it," piped up Emily suddenly, after a long silent pause, earning herself pointed stares from the others which she returned with defiance.

"Temple," muttered Becker. "I should have known."

He pushed himself into the room, striding quickly across it towards the holdall, his movement sending Connor leaping to his feet, holding himself in a shaky defensive stance, his eyes staring warily at Becker.

Becker raised an eyebrow at Connor's attempt to engage him in combat. As if the scientist posed any kind of threat! Connor wouldn't last five minutes! He stopped, feeling Abby's eyes boring into his back, as if daring him to make a move against her fiance. And Abby, he knew, could most definitely defend herself. He really didn't feel like getting into a confrontation with the small feisty blonde right now. Not that he couldn't take her; he could! He just didn't feel like it. Instead Becker brushed past Connor and reached for the bag just as Matt gripped his forearm.

"What's in the bag, Becker?" he asked quietly.

Becker stopped, his fingers closing around the soft handle of the bag and gripping until his knuckles went white, and met the Team Leader's hard stare with his own.

"Just - stuff," he mumbled, annoyed with how lame that sounded.

Matt wasn't buying it. "Becker -." His tone held a warning. "Don't force me to make it a direct order."

"It's money!" blurted out Connor, earning himself glares from both the other men. Sheepishly, Connor sat back down on the bed, ducking his head down behind Abby, seeking her protection.

"Money?" the girls' repeated, their gazes, now full of curiosity, locked on the black holdall.

Matt let go of Becker's arm in surprise. That was not what he had been expecting. Grenades? Yes. IEDs? Definitely. Even a bazooka would not have made him blink an eye. But money?

Two impassive but intense faces stared each other down whilst the others waited nervously, trading anxious glances. Jess chewed her lip furiously, her gaze darting from the holdall to Becker to Matt and back again.

Eventually, Becker sighed, loudly, exasperatedly and with much exaggeration, in the manner of a petulant teenager.

"It's all I could get a such short notice," he stated flatly. "I have a Trust Fund," he added for clarification and indicated the bag in his hand. "This is all the bank would allow me to withdraw."

Matt raised one eyebrow. Having seen Becker's family home those few short months ago, he was aware of the soldier's upper class status. However, "Trust Fund" was something he had not considered - although, with hindsight, perhaps it should have been more than obvious.

"How much money, Becker?" his soft voice only indicated it was a question by the rise in tone on the soldier's name.

Becker avoided his gaze and said nothing.

"Becker?" Matt insisted, his patience beginning to thin.

Jess watched as a slow flush crept up Becker's face from his jaw line to his temple. When he spoke, his voice was so low it was barely audible.

"A little under three mill," he admitted, squirming awkwardly at the group's collective gasp. It was incredible how many diverse inflections could be conveyed by that short, sharp intake of breath. Gasps of horror sounded different to gasps of joy or surprise. This gasp, however, he knew, was a gasp of awe, which he found unimaginably uncomfortable. He just wanted to squirrel the bag away and slink out of the spotlight. Unfortunately, Connor had other ideas.

"Three million quid!" he exclaimed rather too loudly, as he leapt off the bed, nearly knocking Abby onto the floor, his voice booming across the quiet room.

Becker winced and avoided everyone's gaze, his colour deepening.

Abby reached out her hand, resting it on Connor's arm to calm his enthusiasm, before turning incredulous eyes towards the soldier.

"Seriously, Becker?" she queried, softly.

Returning her gaze, Becker nodded once in reply to Abby's quiet question.

Matt whistled long and low, a measure of his surprise showing fleetingly in his expression.

Feeling her eyes on him, Becker turned towards Jess, meeting her wide blue eyes with a worried frown. She hadn't spoken yet - which was unusual for her. Did she disapprove? As he stared at her, her expression altered from one of shock to placation and concern. She rested a gentle hand on his, her fingers slowly caressing his skin.

"Becker, you can't finance this entire mission by yourself," she told him firmly, her voice a fierce whisper, her eyes never leaving his.

"I can, I have, it's done," he replied flatly, hefting the holdall twice to prove his point.

Stepping back, Becker addressed the group.

"Look," he stated quietly. "We need to cover living costs, transportation, any equipment we may require and heaven knows how much for Lester's legal expenses. That could easily run into hundreds of thousands of pounds. And we need it in cash. By now our bank accounts will either be frozen or monitored by MI6. Or both actually. If we try to use debit or credit cards they will be able to trace our location. Not our exact position, granted, but it will give them a head start. I did what I had to do to ensure our safety and our anonymity."

He paused in the face of their silence, his features blank, waiting for the back lash. He was not expecting the one person with whom he had the most fractious and strained relationship to become his champion. He was therefore completely taken aback when Emily expressed her opinion, her voice strident and confident in the quiet room.

"You are absolutely correct, Captain Becker," she announced. "And we are all very grateful for your foresight in this matter. I believe you have safeguarded our liberty and given us the means to complete our mission by reducing our risk of discovery. And at great personal cost." She paused to squeeze Becker's arm, bringing his eyes to hers. "Thank you," she said, simply and sincerely.

Matt took her lead, a small grin expressing his admiration for the woman beside him, and slapped Becker on the shoulder causing the soldier to wince.

"Nice one, mate. Now, can we please discuss more important issues - like our next move?" And, with that, any further discussion on the money was none too subtly dropped.

Feeling the attention of everyone shifting away from him, Becker sent Matt a small, grateful smile.

"I see three immediate needs," the soldier told the Team Leader, waiting for Matt to indicate he should proceed.

"Which are?" Matt prompted.

"A permanent base of operations, parts for Connor to re-engineer his equipment, and ensuring the safety of our families," continued Becker, without much inflection to indicate which need he considered to be the most pressing.

He felt Jess tense and squeak beside him.

"Becker - my mother!"

She hadn't really contemplated the implications of all this for her family until now. She hadn't understood that her mother could be in danger. She felt panic suddenly grip her, constricting her throat and reducing her exclamation to a squeak. Becker nodded to her and reassuringly squeezed her hand, his strength calming her slightly; but the tension remained.

"Right," agreed Matt. He took one short moment to make his decision, before barking out orders, his tone gruff and determined.

"Emily, Abby - visit some estate agents. Find a rental property big enough to accommodate all of us. We'll need something with good visibility - and a defendable escape route."

The girls nodded and moved towards each other.

"We'll need a location where we will blend in," interjected Becker. "Somewhere the neighbours won't bat an eyelid at our odd comings and goings. We need to be anonymous."

"Okay, got it!" Abby nodded.

"Connor and I will scout out the equipment," Matt continued, looking at the scientist. "Know where we can get the stuff we need?"

Connor's eyes lit up. "Yep. On it!" Abby smiled, pleased to see her fiance excited once more.

Becker cut in again. "Connor - I need you to set up a Youtube channel for me -"

"You've heard of Youtube?" Connor interrupted, astonished but was silenced by a glare from the soldier.

"Yes, Temple, I've heard of Youtube," Becker sighed. "And I need to you set up a channel under this name with this password." He handed Connor a folded piece of ARC letterhead.

Connor frowned, confused and more than a little curious, but he decided, wisely, not to question further.

"Youtube channel," he repeated. "Check."

Matt took the holdall from Becker and handed out cash to Abby and Becker, keeping some for himself and Connor, before stashing the bag under the bed moving towards the door.

"Wait!" cried Jess. "What about protecting our families?"

Everyone froze and stared at her.

Matt shrugged. "I don't have any. Neither does Emily." He paused, thoughtful for a moment. "Connor? Abby?"

Connor shook his head. "There's my mum but I have no way of contacting her," he said, a tinge of sadness in his tone. He found he was unable to clarify exactly why he had no contact with her and caught Abby's arm tightly in his hand, hoping to deflect any pertinent questions with one of his own. "What about Jack?"

Abby smiled gratefully at his concern for her baby brother but shook her head gently. "I have no idea where he is." She sighed heavily. "Not that he would listen to me even if I did."

Connor squeezed Abby's arm comfortingly, his brown eyes full of concern. She smiled ruefully.

"It's okay. He's always done his own thing. I'm used to it."

"Your mother, Becker?" asked Matt, suddenly, remembering the incredible, stoic old lady, so much like her son, that he and Carter had rescued a few months before.

At this, Becker smiled.

"Whisked away by an old friend of my father's - along with half the men from his old unit. Not that she knows that, of course. They'll stay on watch and keep well hidden. And Forsyth is a good man. He'll ensure she comes to no harm. He's always had a bit of a soft spot for my mother."

Matt raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The thought that Becker had sent his mother on what could ostensibly be called an "extended date" required him to fiercely resist the urge to laugh.

"So, just my mother then," Jess murmured, her voice small and fearful. She had seen what MI6 could do. Running from them, she had experienced what these people were capable of. And she was extremely afraid for her mother.

Becker gazed down at her, a soft, tender glow in his hazel eyes, and patted her hand.

"Whom we are going to visit right now."

He stopped momentarily, looking up to check he hadn't overstepped the chain of command. "Right, Matt?"

Matt smirked. "I was wondering what you two were still doing here, to be honest, mate," he quipped lightly, trying to remove the look of fear in Jess's eyes.

It worked and her face brightened. "Thank you." She managed a small smile for him, before pulling on Becker's arm, indicating her desire to leave urgently. She knew MI6 could be there already.

Matt nodded. "Return immediately back here once you're done." This time he addressed the whole team. "Keep away from CCTV cameras and keep your heads down. Remember, we have no phones - something that Connor and I will rectify shortly - so for now we have no means of communication. Stick together. And, whatever you do, don't get caught."

They all smiled grimly and nodded before splitting into pairs and heading out into the city.

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><p><strong>AN So, Becker can afford those shoes afterall! :D :D :D**

**Will MI6 get to Mrs Parker before Jess and Becker? :/**

**And why on earth does Becker need a Youtube channel?**

**So many questions! I'd love to hear your thoughts on them! :D**

**Next chapter we meet the Jess's mum - what will she be like...?**


	12. The Passenger

**A/N Hello FanFiction - I'm back! I hope this update finds everyone well and I apologise for my lengthy absence. Thank you to SAndyLeePotts, lovingthis, Prawn Crackers, Cengiz and Mijo54 for their unending support (without which I doubt I would be back!). Thank you to everyone who may be reading this for your patience - I had some difficult family stuff to deal with - and I am so grateful that you are still with me and still following this story. Anyway, enough of me and on with the update! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval but currently have Becker naked and covered in aromatherapy oils...hehehehehehehehehe :D  
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><p>They sat opposite her in the half full tube carriage - the tall solemn man and the petite delicate girl. The passenger was a regular commuter on this particular line but she had never seen this couple before. It was a hobby of hers - "people watching" she called it. She liked to study those around her, their body language and mood, and guess their stories. It helped to pass the time from the suburbs to central London where she had a part time job at a homeless shelter. She glanced furtively at this new couple, trying to get a feel for them. They intrigued her, as oddly matched as they were. It was not that they were mismatched - far from it. They both belonged to a group that the passenger labelled "the beautiful people" - with the man being particularly handsomely formed.<p>

No, it was the girl's youth and his worldliness that set them apart from each other. She was so young, so tender, so innocent. And he, though far from old, had a careworn, jaded expression, his eyes hooded, haunted by experience. And yet, she observed the change in him as he glanced down at his companion. His whole complexion softened, the lines smoothed out, his eyes gently caressing the girl as his lips played with a small smile. Their observer sighed to herself. He looked so vulnerable in that moment that she was left in no doubt that these two belonged together.

She watched as the pair locked eyes for a brief moment before the girl dropped her gaze to her lap again, studying her hands intently and blushing furiously. A new relationship then, the passenger concluded, smiling with pleasure. There was nothing more exciting than the start of a new relationship and this one oozed such an intensity and passion in that brief exchange that it gave her own, elderly heart the flutters.

The man's eyebrow twitched and he looked away, giving the passenger the chance to see his face clearly, just for a moment. She was surprised to see bruises, dark and fresh, dappling the skin. She frowned and squinted her eyes, her senses now honing in on the possibility that something was very wrong. She noticed the tension in his seat, the tic in his jaw as if he were unconsciously grinding his teeth and the narrowing of his eyes as he glanced around the carriage. He gave the impression of someone on alert, ready to leap into action to protect the girl he loved. Sighing audibly this time, she decided wistfully that this image suited him very well. He was the young girl's very own Action Man. Yes, definitely the hero rather than the bad guy.

She turned her attention to the young girl, as the man began to scan the carriage again on his personal seek and destroy mission. It struck the passenger that the girl seemed nervous, almost frightened. She continually laced and unlaced her fingers in her lap, her large, unusually blue eyes darting around the carriage far too quickly for her to actually see anything, or anyone, before she dropped her gaze to stare intently at her hands once more. She chewed her bottom lip almost viciously and the passenger worried that she would draw blood if she didn't stop soon.

She wondered what on earth could be causing these two people such anxiety. The man reached over and placed his large hand directly over hers in her lap, squeezing reassuringly. She lifted her head and he leant over to whisper something in her ear. Immediately, the girl flushed and giggled softly, her nervousness momentarily dispelled. The girl turned her head to face him, smiling softly, and his body visibly relaxed as their eyes met in silent but intense communication. The passenger was transfixed by this interaction, as it endeared the couple to her and flooded her with a warm, comfortable feeling. This couple, odd though they had seemed at first, clearly complemented each other perfectly - youth and experience, air and earth, vivacity and solemnity. She imagined that he kept her enthusiasm grounded and she lifted him to a place where the world didn't appear quite so bleak. Two halves making one complete person.

But what trouble they now found themselves in she could not fathom. Still, trying to work it out would keep her occupied for most of the day. She did not know it then, but she would still be thinking about them on her long journey home.

"Next stop, Charing Cross," a tinny voice announced, suddenly, breaking her reverie. "Mind the gap!"

The passenger arose, disappointed to have arrived at her stop already, and with the couple showing no signs of leaving. As she passed them, she broke her own golden rule - never to interact with the subjects of her scrutiny. She patted the young girl's arm reassuringly and murmured: "Don't fret, dear. Everything will be all right, I'm sure," before exiting the train.

Jess stared at the tweed clad elderly lady in astonishment, watching her as she struggled across the crowded platform.

"What was that all about?" Becker's deep tone asked quietly, close to her ear.

Jess turned to him, bewildered. "I have no idea," she admitted.

With an odd grin, Becker reached into his jacket and produced two identical, dark coloured baseball caps. She frowned as he pulled on onto her head, carefully pushing tendrils of her hair back behind her ears and adjusting the cap forward to momentarily hide her face. With a little annoyance, Jess pushed it back up again and glared at him. His eyes twinkled from under his own cap.

"It will help keep us hidden from CCTV cameras," he explained with a smile.

Jess grinned back. "If I were at the ADD, I would really hate you right now," she muttered, tongue-in-cheek.

Becker's mood plummeted instantly. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes hardened. "If you were at the ADD we wouldn't be in this predicament," he told her, darkly.

Her smile fell and her eyes widened as she stared at him, wondering if he blamed her in some way for being here and not back at the ARC. Becker mentally kicked himself for his insensitivity, for once realising the impact his words had on her. He hadn't meant to make her feel guilty. Now he needed a way to divert her attention from their immediate situation - she looked so scared and vulnerable and he didn't like it.

"So, tell me about your mother?" he asked her gently, taking her hand in his. Jess managed a small smile for him.

"She's a barrister. A QC to be precise," she began. Becker frowned at her with incomprehension. "Queen's Council," Jess explained. "The highest accolade a lawyer can attain. She took the silk about five years ago and now works on very high profile human rights cases - asylum hearings, extradition applications and such." Jess's expression changed as she spoke of her mother. Respect, admiration and pride radiated from her as she talked, her love for her mother sparkling in her eyes.

The wheels in Becker's head went into overdrive. How could he not have known this about her mother? He had always wondered why Jess's file was low on details. Could it be deliberate? Nevertheless, this information could prove extremely useful.

"Would she help us?" he asked, bluntly.

Jess stared at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Lester," Becker told her. "With the right lawyer, he might have a slim chance of avoiding prison."

Jess's eyes widened. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that? She had been so pre-occupied with her mother's safety it hadn't occurred to her that they should ask her for assistance. Then her face fell and she pursed her lips. The possibility of help from her mother was remote given the barrister's strict belief that she must remain partisan and unbiased. She carefully avoided cases where she felt too personally involved or left herself open to a conflict of interest. And anything Jess asked her would be classed as both of those!

"Jess?" Becker prompted, gently.

She looked up at him and sighed. "It may depend on how busy she is," she said, not wanting to admit to Becker that a personal request from a daughter to her mother was likely to go unheeded. "But we can try."

Becker's eyes narrowed at Jess's lack of enthusiasm for his idea but he decided not to push it further. There was another issue that needed addressing anyway.

"We can't tell her anything, you know," he murmured and watched Jess's eyes widen again. "Unless she agrees to take on the case. Any unnecessary knowledge may put her in further danger."

Jess stared at him incredulously. "So, we are going to ask my mother for her professional services but "sorry, we can't tell you why unless you agree"?" She emphasized the speech marks with her fingers looking dumbstruck but Becker nodded. That was exactly how it had to be. Jess sighed heavily, her expression doubtful.

"I don't know, Becker. It will be difficult enough as it is. But to expect her to commit to a cause before she even knows what it is -," she paused, leaving her sentence hanging. "I can't promise anything," she finished in a defeated tone.

Becker squeezed her hand. "You can promise to try," he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek and making her smile despite her apprehension.

"Okay," she agreed. "I promise to try."

"Good girl," Becker muttered before glancing around the carriage again, nonchalantly, whilst his brain took note of each and every person who had exited and entered the train since his last reconnoitre. Satisfied there were, as yet, no threats he leant back in his seat with a sigh.

Jess began biting her bottom lip and twisting her hands nervously again.

"There is one other small thing, Becker," she murmured.

He stared at her out of the corners of his eyes, his head remaining stationary.

"I haven't told my mother about you - about us, I mean," Jess rushed out breathlessly and winced as she saw his jaw set into a tight, straight line.

She reached over and squeezed his arm, determined that he would not be angry with her.

"It's not that I don't want to tell her," she began, rambling. "It's just the opportunity has never presented itself. I do want to tell her. I'm glad to be taking you to meet her. It's just that -," she trailed off.

Becker turned to look at her, his face expressionless with only his eyes betraying his hurt. "Are you ashamed of me?" he asked, quietly.

Jess gasped, horrified that he should think that. She gripped his arm tighter.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Absolutely not!" She was shaking her head vigorously as if to emphasize her point. "It's just that - my dad's in the army and my mum hates it."

Becker hadn't been expecting that. He raised a curious eyebrow and waited for her to continue.

"Don't get me wrong - she loves my dad, really she does. It's the lifestyle she hates. The constant moving from place to place, the constant worry whether he'll come home again. She's lived like that all her life. I've grown up knowing she didn't want that for me. "Never marry an army man," she used to tell me. Repeatedly, I'm afraid." She paused as Becker smirked.

"So, when are we getting married, Jess?" he teased, enjoying the deep colour that stained her face. She swatted his arm gently.

"You know what I meant!" she protested and he grinned with a gleam in his eyes indicating that he wasn't totally averse to the idea. Then a thought struck him.

"Wait! Your dad is Major General William Parker?" he asked, suddenly, realising he knew the answer and that this was just another small detail omitted from her file.

Jess nodded, smiling as her thoughts turned to her dad. "Yes. Do you know him?"

"By reputation only," Becker told her, admiration in his tone. "He is one hell of a soldier."

Jess's grin broadened. "He's one hell of a dad too. Just not such a great husband, unfortunately." She bit her lip. "Look, I'm more than happy to tell my mum how I feel about you." She stroked his face affectionately. "Just keep your job under your hat for now!" She pulled his cap down over his eyes and giggled softly.

Before Becker could respond, other than to push the cap back up, the tinny voice announced:

"Next stop, Regent's Park."

Jess patted Becker's knee.

"That's us," she told him and stood.

Becker immediately rose beside her and gripped her arm.

"Stay close and keep your head down," he murmured into her hair. "We need to tread carefully from here."

The jovial mood they had attained briefly on the train dispelled to be replaced by a fearful tension. Becker, now on full alert, pulled Jess close to him by her arm and scouted the platform before allowing her to exit.

The Parker family home was the end house in a select terrace in St John's Wood. Elegantly Georgian, double fronted with large stone steps leading up to the hardwood front door, cutting through the courtyard front garden which was bordered by neatly trimmed hedges. Becker stopped Jess in a side street opposite the house, carefully reconnoitring the immediate vicinity from what he hoped was a relatively safe distance. Then he glanced down at Jess with a raised eyebrow. She met his gaze with big blue eyes.

"What?" she asked, innocently, blinking rapidly.

He smirked, remembering her reaction to his parents' house, now ironic in the context of her own family's obvious wealth. He shook his head and became serious again.

"Jess, is there anyway into the house that is a little less obvious and out in the open than the front door?" he asked, his tone urgent.

Jess frowned for a moment. It had been several years since she had lived at this house - she'd purchased her own apartment at the age of 18. Then her face lit up.

"The cellar," she told him, confidently. "At the back of the house there's a broken window. It doesn't shut properly." She coloured slightly. "It's how I used to sneak out as a kid. I don't think my parents ever discovered or fixed it."

She grinned, sheepishly and Becker chuckled at the image of Jess wiggling through a small window. It was not an unpleasant image, he thought.

Holding hands they circled the block to the rear of the building. Keeping close to the trees and foliage that bordered the beautifully landscaped lawn in an effort to disguise their approach, Becker pulled Jess quickly towards the house. He stopped suddenly, causing Jess to lurch into his back. He pushed her behind him, into the hedgerow, eyeing the garden and surrounding residences suspiciously. He was certain they were under surveillance. His eyes couldn't see them, whomever they were, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he had long since learned to trust that instinctual response. It had saved his life many times over. His gaze was drawn to a sudden movement at a second floor window but by the time he looked he saw no-one. Sighing, and hoping that any immediate threat had passed, he pulled Jess forward again to quickly locate the window to the cellar. Speed was of the essence now; they had to get into the house and fast.

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><p><strong>AN I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone reading this! You can't imagine what it means to me that you have stuck with this story even after such a long gap between updates. I hope this one didn't disappoint and I look forward to reading your comments. **

**xxx  
><strong>


	13. The Near Miss

**A/N This chapter is dedicated to SAndyLeePotts for her birthday last Sunday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUNNY BUNNY! :D**

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><p>Becker crouched down and scraped the ivy away from the area that Jess had indicated, locating the window quickly. Christ, it was small! He glanced back at Jess, bemused, wondering how on earth he was going to fit through it. Jess shrugged back.<p>

"I guess I've always been small," she admitted, sheepishly.

Becker shook his head, a little exasperated, whilst reaching into his boot and removing the knife that perpetually lived there. Edging the blade through the mortar holding the window frame in place, Becker carefully removed the entire window from the wall. As he rested the frame and glass against the building, he grinned up at Jess's incredulous face.

"Are you coming?" he quipped, before pushing through the gap, feet first, and dangling for a moment before finding a secure footing on the damp cellar floor. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the underground room, he spun and held his arms up, signalling to Jess to follow him through.

She sat down, her legs wiggling in front of Becker as she shuffled her body through the opening. Reaching up, Becker placed his hands on her hips, guiding her through the window and steadying her descent to the concrete floor. A violent jolt of electricity shocked through him from his groin to his heart as she slid down his body, making his breath catch in his throat and the muscles in his arms and legs freeze up completely. He swallowed loudly, his throat painfully constricted. How did she do this? How was it that she had the ability to destroy all his self control merely by getting close to him. Struggling to regain his equilibrium, Becker stepped back from her and silently watched her smooth down her hair and clothes, her head bowed over her fussing hands until she was satisfied she had restored her appearance. Lifting her head, completely unaware of Becker's discomfort, she took his hand and pulled.

"Come on," she said, firmly. "We have a job to do."

A job that was becoming more difficult with every millimetre she wriggled further under his guard, under his skin, Becker mused. He wondered how much longer he would be able to perform his job adequately given the detrimental effect her very nearness had on his professionalism. With these doubts still in his mind, he allowed her to lead him up the cellar steps to a large steel door, which would not have looked out of place in a World War II bomb shelter, and which suddenly opened from the other side.

Becker reacted immediately, pulling Jess back from the door, his body twisting into a defensive stance. Squinting into the sudden bright light of the room beyond he made ready to protect Jess, with his life if necessary, from the tall, stocky silhouette that stood threateningly in the door frame. Becker tensed as the dark shape moved forward.

"Miss Jessica! What on earth are you doing here?" demanded a loud, very surprised Scottish accent.

Jess pushed an immobile Becker out of the way and flung her arms around the speaker.

"Hamish!" she cried happily and kissed his cheek before pulling away to a more respectable distance.

Hamish reacted to Jess's exuberance in much the same way as Lester did, Becker observed with a smidgeon of satisfaction. The Scotsman stood stiffly, arms at his sides; his face, now just visible to Becker's straining eyes, was a mixture of patience, forbearance and irritation.

"We've just come to visit Mum," bubbled Jess, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to visit one's mother by sneaking in through the cellar.

"Surely the front door would have been more appropriate, Miss?" asked Hamish, flatly, but there was a twinkle of indulgence in his eyes giving away his soft spot for the young woman.

Jess's laugh tinkled. "But that would ruin the surprise!"

"Of course it would, Miss," chuckled Hamish, stepping to one side and allowing Jess to pull Becker into the passageway beyond, flooded with sunlight, bright after the dark cellar.

Becker watched Hamish close the cellar door, noting his immaculate grey long tailed coat and white gloved hands. As Hamish turned back towards the couple, Jess introduced them.

"Hamish, this is my friend from work - Cap - I mean Becker, just Becker." Her face flushed with her error but Hamish gave no sign that he had noticed. "Becker, this is Hamish - my Dad's butler."

Becker frowned but shook Hamish by the hand, just once, both men gripping firmly. Aside from the way he was dressed, Becker wouldn't have pegged the man for a butler. There was something in his stance, in his demeanour, that Becker found instantly familiar, even though he couldn't quite grasp what it was. He was forced to push his concerns to the back of his mind, however, by a loud, commanding voice from the upper floor.

"Hamish? If that's my daughter, tell her to come upstairs immediately for tea." There was a short pause as Hamish extended his hand towards the large sweeping staircase, ushering them forwards. Then the disembodied voice continued. "And tell her soldier boy to remove his boots, will you?"

Becker and Jess exchanged a wide-eyed glance before she smiled reassuringly at him and took his hand so they could ascend the stairs together.

Hamish watched, frowning, as they disappeared across the landing.

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><p>Mrs Miranda Parker, QC, reposed on a large sofa, briefs spread out across the cushions, in her large opulently furnished drawing room, with a Georgian stone fireplace dominating one wall. A pencil rested gently between her lips and her brow was furrowed with concentration, much as her daughter's did when she manned the ADD. Before her, on an elegant low table, rested a porcelain tea set, ready to pour.<p>

"Jessica, dear!" she called without looking up from her work. "Come on in, it's been ages since you've been home!"

Jess and Becker moved further into the room, allowing the soldier a good look at Mrs Parker for the first time. She sat primly on the edge of the sofa, knees together, ankles crossed. She was immaculately dressed in a light linen suit, her hair coiffed perfectly in place, its bright auburn colour showing no signs of any grey. As Jess swept forward, Mrs Parker lifted her head, placing her papers next to her on the sofa, and Becker was startled by the resemblance between the two women. It was the eyes that captured him, cerulean blue, exactly the same shade as her daughter's, sparkling with vivacity, glittering like diamonds. It was a glimpse into Jess's future, a future which Becker found himself hoping he would still be a part of.

Jess and her mother embraced warmly and Mrs Parker gathered up some of her papers to make room for her daughter on the large sofa.

"Jess, darling, how lovely to see you," gushed Miranda Parker, kissing Jess on both cheeks. "How are you? Working too hard as usual?" She caught her daughter's chin between her finger and thumb and scrutinized her face, searching for signs of fatigue.

Jess laughed, a little nervously, and pulled her head away slightly.

"Oh, you know, same as you Mum!" She laughed, gesturing the mass of paperwork that littered the room.

"Touche," muttered Mrs Parker, with a soft smile, acknowledging that she, too, was a workaholic. Then she purposefully changed the subject. "So, will you introduce me to your friend?"

Becker, already stood stiffly at the side of the sofa, snapped to attention as he realised Jess's mother was referring to him. But Jess's soft smile helped him relax somewhat.

"Mum, this is Becker. My friend from work. He's in security. Becker, this is -"

Mrs Parker stood, holding out her hand to the soldier and cutting off her daughter mid-sentence.

"Miranda Parker, Mr Becker. Pleased to meet you at last."

Becker felt her firm fingers clasp his hand and returned the squeeze automatically. He raised an eyebrow, questioning her last statement, and she smiled widely.

"You'd be surprised what my daughter lets slip without meaning to."

Becker shot Jess a hard look as she gasped and flushed with embarrassment. Mrs Parker sat down next to her again and patted the younger woman's knee.

"There, there, dear," she soothed. "You've just mentioned his name, that's all." She paused and chuckled. "A lot."

Jess's colour deepened as Becker allowed himself a smug smile.

Pleasantries over, Miranda Parker poured three dainty cups of tea, one of which was politely declined by Becker. Then she got immediately down to business.

"So, darling, tell me why you're here," she said carefully.

Jess spluttered on her tea. "I just wanted to see you Mum!" she exclaimed. "I was well overdue to visit!"

"Jess, dear, as happy as I am to see you, you never just drop in for a visit. And certainly not with a bodyguard." She noticed the tension return to the young man's body at her statement. "Now, tell me what's wrong." Miranda's tone became gentle as she hoped to coax the truth from her daughter.

Jess looked at Becker who nodded curtly, giving his assent for Jess to be as candid as she could regarding their situation. Huffing out a breath, Jess tried to figure out where to start. In the end, she decided the best course of action was just to leap straight in.

"Mum, we're in trouble. And we've put you in danger too. Horrible danger. We all have to go away for a bit, until we get it sorted out."

Miranda stared impassively at her daughter, seemingly unperturbed by this news.

"Tell me what you've got yourself into, dear," she said and Jess recognised her mother's switch into "lawyer mode" immediately. She glanced back at Becker, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"I - I can't tell you that, Mum. Its classified. But your life is in danger. You have to leave!"

Jess became agitated as her worst fear was voiced and Becker moved behind the sofa to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, an action that did not go unnoticed. But Miranda appeared very calm.

"Jess, dear," she said, slowly. "What life threatening danger can your little government department have brought upon itself?"

Stung by her mother's blasé attitude, Jess's agitation increased. "Mum!" she protested. "I'm serious! Our lives are in danger. Your life is in danger too. We all have to hide until the danger has passed. Please Mum!"

Miranda Parker shook her head, dismissing her daughter's concerns.

"You always were prone to exaggeration, sweetheart. I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

Becker rolled his eyes, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. Stepping away from the back of the sofa, he padded across the deep-pile carpet to the long sash windows overlooking the street. Careful to stand to the side, out of sight of the street below, he quickly scanned the close vicinity, searching for any indication of a threat. If Miranda thought this behaviour odd, she didn't show it. Instead, she took her daughter's hand and squeezed it.

"Look, darling, I left the biscuit tin in the kitchen. Would you run and get it for me? And then we will discuss our options properly, all right?"

Her tone was mollifying but Jess knew her mother better than that. She was being deliberately sent out of the room. This irked her hugely but what choice did she have? She really didn't want to make a scene.

Becker frowned as he heard Jess reply in the affirmative and their gazes held as she rose reluctantly to her feet. Becker watched her flee the room, his anxiety levels rising as she disappeared from his sight. His eyes remained locked on the closed door until Miranda Parker's loud voice jolted his concentration.

"So, Captain Becker, how long have you been in love with my daughter?"

Caught completely off guard by her directness, Becker's mask fell and he stared at Mrs Parker incredulously, his stance rigidly to attention, arms ramrod straight at his sides.

"I - I -," he stammered. "What?"

Confusion raked across his features and Miranda Parker clearly restated her question.

"How long have you been in love with my daughter?"

Staring at this petite woman, Becker got a small measure of why she made such a formidable barrister. There was no way he could lie, could deny the truth, to the beautiful face smiling so benignly at him. His swallow made his Adam's apple bob and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. Then, meeting her stern gaze with renewed strength as he thought of Jess, he dropped his stance to at ease, hands now clasped behind his back, and replied openly and confidently.

"From the moment I met her, Ma'am."

Miranda Parker smiled genuinely at the young man she knew her daughter to be crazy about. She liked his answer, she liked his assuredness, but most of all she liked that he had spoken honestly. It gave her an excellent insight into his character.

"Very well," she stated, almost resignedly, not wishing to let him know how excited she was that Jess had finally caught her man. If asked, she may have admitted that she had been worried about Jess's infatuation with this man over the last two years and frustrated by her daughter's unhappy lack of progress. But now, it appeared at least, her concerns were unfounded and this man was as attached to Jessica as she was to him. She smiled enigmatically.

"And do you think she feels the same way about you?"

Becker's eyebrows crinkled and he looked away from the barrister for a moment. What kind of loaded question was that? How was he supposed to respond to that when the inflection in her tone clearly implied that she did not. He frowned, taking a moment to think, aware of the expectant look on Miranda Parker's face. Did he think Jess loved him? He was reasonably sure she did, he thought. Although quite why had always escaped him. Did she feel about him the way he felt about her, however? That he very much doubted. Was she hoping to spend the rest of her life with him? Probably not. Did she dream about the kind of life he could offer her - full of uncertainty and fear? Definitely not. Did she think he was the one and only person in the entire world that she could ever love? Ha! The whole idea was laughable. So, the answer was no, she did not feel the same way about him. But, he had conceded that she was in love with him, for the moment at least. So, he met Mrs Parker's waiting gaze with uncertain hazel eyes and said simply:

"I hope so, yes ma'am."

Miranda narrowed her eyes, knowing there was more to this young man than he was giving away. But she decided that was a conversation for another time. Instead, she kept him off balance by switching the subject suddenly.

"And are we really all in impending danger, as my daughter thinks we are?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied the soldier, this time his tone leaving her in no doubt of the truth.

"Just whom are we in danger from, exactly?" asked Miranda, calmly.

"I can't tell you that, ma'am," Becker advised her respectfully.

Miranda raised a curious eyebrow. "Can't - or won't, Captain?" she demanded. Becker's ensuing silence gave her the answer she least wanted.

Several minutes passed and neither spoke, the uncomfortable quiet only broken by the ticking of the mantel clock. Finally, Becker asked a question of his own.

"You called me Captain," he blurted out suddenly, unable to contain his curiosity. "Do you mind me asking how you knew I was military?"

Mrs Parker smiled knowingly, taking a dainty sip of her tea.

"Captain, I have been an army wife for nearly thirty years. And besides that, I make my living from getting the truth from people. Much of that comes from studying body language, amongst other things. Army officers are easy to identify - same stance, same demeanour, same gait. It was a relatively simple deduction to make."

Becker huffed quietly to himself, annoyed that he had given himself away so readily. But she was right. He could always pick out another soldier a mile away. Alarm bells blared in his head, making him wince. Of course! That was what had been familiar about the butler. He really wasn't a butler at all. But what was Jess's mum doing with a soldier disguised as a butler?

He didn't have time to contemplate this further as Jess came bounding back into the room with the biscuit tin. Her eyes met his with a question: "You okay?"

He smiled thinly at her and nodded. He had survived the interrogation for now but he was certain there was more to come.

Jess offered her mother a biscuit and the woman rummaged in the tin until she found a Bourbon. Becker grinned at that. Of course it would be the chocolate one! Jess sat next to her mother and gripped her arm fiercely.

"Mum, please believe what I said. Your life is in danger! I know I can't tell you how or why - but it is still the truth!" Her voice was pleading, her eyes full of such concern and worry that Mrs Parker hugged her daughter tightly and softly kissed her hair.

"My darling Jessica. Please don't worry." She stroked Jess's face tenderly. "I am a highly influential barrister, well known in political circles. I deal with high profile and potentially volatile human rights cases day in, day out. Whomever it is would be foolish to harm me," she said calmly.

"But mum -," began Jess, her eyes beseeching her mother to take the threat seriously. But Miranda continued.

"Besides, darling, do you think your father leaves me here unprotected? Certainly not!"

The tears that had been worryingly close to flooding Jess's face dried instantly as she stared wide-eyed at her mother, her mouth open in surprise.

Mrs Parker smiled knowingly. "We always have several of your father's unit stationed here whenever he is away on exercise. In fact, we've had one in particular stationed here permanently since you were very small."

Jess goldfished for a moment and Becker cut in.

"Hamish," he stated flatly. "He's Special Forces, isn't he?"

Miranda lifted her head and glanced at Becker, nodding once to acknowledge his question.

"Over the years, my life being in danger has become quite routine." She patted Jess's hand. "Don't fret dear."

Jess sighed, trying to assimilate this astounding new information - something she had been completely unaware of growing up. She now realised she had spent most of her life under the very real threat of losing the things most dear to her and she had never even known it! It was almost too much to take in. She looked so shaken that Becker crossed the room in three strides. He hunkered down in front of her and took her small trembling hands in his. Their eyes met and the shaking stopped. Becker's head cocked to one side, reminding her that they had another matter to discuss with her mum. Finding new strength and resolve from Becker's close proximity, Jess turned to her mother. It briefly crossed her mind that her mum looked terribly smug, although she had little time to wonder why before she heaved in a breath and asked for help.

"Mum. There's something else. My boss is in trouble with the police."

Instantly, Miranda Parker's demeanour changed and she sat upright and interested. _Here it comes_, she thought.

"Go on," she coaxed her daughter.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Jess paused. "Well, he did - but he didn't and now he's in trouble and we need you to help us, to help him."

Miranda smiled indulgently at her daughter's incoherent rambling. Jess had struggled with this since she was a little girl. She had started talking in full sentences at the age of eighteen months and her brain had always been two steps ahead of the rest of her.

"Jess, dear, is this related to the life threatening situation?" Miranda asked gently.

Jess nodded. "He's in real trouble, Mum. He's going to end up in prison for a very long time for something that was not his fault!"

Mrs Parker considered this for a few minutes, then placed her hand on Jess's arm.

"You know I can't help you, Jess dear," she murmured, hating the look of disappointment that clouded her daughter's face. "I can't get involved in a case that has a personal connection to my family. It just wouldn't be proper." Worse than the look of disappointment was the look of expected resignation in Jess's eyes. Jess had asked, knowing full well her mother would refuse her. It almost broke Miranda's heart and she wanted to clasp her daughter to her and beg her forgiveness for the way in which the law and politics were so intertwined. Instead, she continued to justify herself.

"Besides, I have just taken on a new case. Very high profile. A government matter and that will take up all of my available time, I'm afraid." She paused. "I am sorry, Jessica," she said, softly.

Jess's face brightened artificially as Becker squeezed the hand he was still holding.

"It's fine, Mum, really. I know how busy you are. I just thought I'd ask -," she trailed off.

Miranda glanced at the clock on the mantel and realised how late it was getting. She looked at Becker.

"I suppose its time you left," she stated, dryly. "Before whomever is after you realises you are here."

Becker stood stiffly, pulling Jess to her feet.

"You're right. We have to go, Jess. Now." His voice was tight, almost angry, but he just managed to keep his disgust at Mrs Parker's excuses for not assisting them in check.

Jess looked sad. "I guess," she concurred. She leaned over and hugged her mother, the pair exchanging a brief kiss on the cheek.

Only Becker noted the whiteness of the older woman's knuckles as she gripped her daughter. Given her attitude a moment ago, that brief show of anxiety made no sense to him.

"Keep yourself safe, Mum," whispered Jess into her mother's ear.

"I always do, my darling," Miranda whispered back. "Now go. You will figure this out. I have every faith in you."

One final squeeze and Becker was pulling Jess away towards the door. As he opened it, Miranda Parker's commanding voice rang out, stopping them in their tracks.

"Take very good care of my daughter, Captain Becker," she ordered, without even glancing at them.

"Always, ma'am," returned Becker stiffly before closing the door behind them just as the telephone in the drawing room began to ring.

* * *

><p>Miranda Parker looked over her shoulder just in time to see her daughter's back disappearing through the closing door. She sighed, allowing herself a tremor of concern. She knew her daughter worked for a department of the Home Office. What on earth at the Home Office could be so dangerous that it required Special Forces soldiers as its security detail? In spite of her busy schedule, Miranda Parker was determined to find out. Sighing again, she lifted the receiver and answered her private line.<p>

"Hello, Home Secretary." She paused, listening.

"Yes, they just left." Another pause. "No, they didn't tell me anything."

She listened intently again, her eyebrows raising slightly and then exaggeratedly.

"A special favour, Home Secretary? Yes, of course. What do you need?"

* * *

><p>Becker and Jess descended the staircase in silence, both taking the moment to digest all they had learned in the upstairs drawing room. Hamish met them at the bottom, frowning.<p>

"Did you really have to take the window our, frame and all?" he demanded, glaring at Becker.

Becker grinned, sheepishly. "Er - yeah - you might want to fix that," he muttered, nudging Jess, hoping to raise a smile from her.

Hamish shook his head.

"Already done," he stated, flatly. "But perhaps you'd like to leave via the door?"

Becker nodded, deciding that, if Mrs Parker had Special Forces protection, it would probably be safe enough.

Walking slowly down the stone steps that led from the back stable door into the beautiful landscaped rear garden, Jess stopped, staring back up at her old home longingly. Becker waited patiently for her before gently calling her name. Breaking out of her daydream, Jess moved down to stand on the step just above him. From here, she could gaze down on him for a change. Smiling, she leant forwards and pressed a soft, loving kiss to his lips. Becker's fingers curled around her waist and her hands buried themselves in his hair as she deepened her kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth.

As tendrils of her hair were lifted up by the breeze, neither of them noticed the projectile that whizzed past the strands, through the space where her head had been just moments ago, and embedded itself in the hedgerow beyond. Hiding on a rooftop across the square, the sniper snapped the barrel of his rifle up towards the sky jerkily as a voice gabbled urgently in his earpiece.

"Abort mission! Repeat! Abort! Abort!"

"Jesus Christ!" the sniper hissed angrily, frustrated by the Powers That Be and his infuriating near miss.

Becker and Jess pulled apart, breathing heavily and gazing at each other with warm, aroused eyes, completely unaware of the immediate danger they were in. Becker took Jess's hand and smiled, flashing his dimple.

"Come on," he murmured. "Time to go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, a nice long chapter for you. What is going on with Mrs Parker? And what favour did the Home Secretary want? Have a little guess and let me know! :D :D :D**


	14. The Sit Rep

**A/N Hello peeps! Yes, I know, its been a while. But genius takes time you know! And I have written some of the later chapters too, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long for some more! This chapter, as its title suggests, is just a Situation Report - a look at how the land lies before all hell breaks loose again! Bear with me...**

**This chapter is dedicated to SAndyLeePotts, Prawn Crackers and Mijo54 for their unswavering patience! Love you guys! xxx  
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* * *

><p>Commander Fred Thompson sat, laid back in the leather chair, feet upon the desk, mulling over events. It was quite clinical here in Lester's office, he thought. No, his office, he amended. It was his office now. With a slight stretch, he opened the drawer to his left and smiled - a half full bottle of decent whisky and a cut glass tumbler nestled cosily inside. He might actually begin to like Lester at this rate.<p>

Pouring himself a generous glass of whisky, he frowned. No, he could never like the man; he was a criminal, whose patriotism had been brought into serious question. A staunch patriot himself, Thompson despised anyone who fell below his high ideals. The renegade, Becker, has shown himself to be a traitor, cunning and clever, willing to involve others in his wrongdoing - a cowardly act in Thompson's view. And Lester had willingly aided and abetted this dangerous terrorist. In fact, the entire senior staff seemed capable of serious breaches of national security. That's why it was imperative that they were relieved of their posts and the ARC placed under the direction of MI6.

He reached for the files on his desk - retrieved from the Archive Storage Room deep in the bowels of the ARC. He read about the anomalies, about Nick Cutter and his wife, Helen (nutters, both of them, he decided). He was most interested in the so-called "spaghetti junction" of anomalies, the Anomaly Opening Device first used by Helen Cutter, and, the most recent revelation - that anomalies opened up all over the world. To be able to control when and where the anomalies opened to would be extremely useful to MI6. Great Britain's national security - and the security of its agents all over the world - would be greatly increased by this power.

He lifted the telephone receiver and spoke to the tech at the ADD.

"How are you faring with the Lockdown?" he asked tersely.

He could see the tech grinning through the glass walls of the office.

"She was good - very clever firewalls, sir. But she's no match for me! Nearly lifted now, sir."

"Very well. Keep at it. I want it lifted within the hour." Thompson paused, frowning. "And get the foremost physicist in the country here urgently."

His face darkened as he listened to the tech's reply. "I don't care who they are or where they are - this is a matter of national security and their presence is required by Her Majesty's Secret Service immediately!" His tone was disparaging - who or what could be more important than that?

"Yes sir," responded the tech, meekly.

"Good - and have him sign the Official Secrets Act before permitting his entry to the building." Thompson's tone brooked no argument from the tech. The put-upon young man replied in the affirmative and Thompson slammed down his receiver. Damn it, he was surrounded by idiots!

Sighing, he leant back again in Lester's chair. No, his chair - it was his chair now. Couldn't his colleagues see the importance of the chance they had been given? Well, ok, taken, then. He smiled. The chance to be able to protect one's country by reconnoitring the enemy completely unannounced - no ports, no airports, no passports. Just control of a flickering, golden light and one could show up any place and any time, thereby changing current events to one's beloved country's advantage. Britain would be Great once more. His chest puffed with pride that he would be the one to bring this tiny island out of obscurity and back to its rightful place on the world stage. The repercussions of his plan held little concern for him - that by changing the past he would be affecting countless lives. This was collateral damage as far as Thompson was concerned. The re-instatement of Great Britain as a world power was of far greater importance than the lives of any individuals.

He was distracted from his musings by a loud whoop from the Ops Room and the tech's voice gabbled excitedly over the ARC's main communication system.

"Lockdown lifted, sir! I've done it - all systems are up and running!"

Commander Fred Thompson stood. Now the real work could begin.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Hicks paced the floor of the guest quarters where they had been incarcerated. Two guards had been placed outside the door to ensure they could not escape. The room had been stripped down to only a single chair, a bed and a table so there was nothing with which to occupy themselves. Hicks was becoming increasingly frustrated. He sighed angrily.<p>

"How are we supposed to help the Captain from in here?" he demanded, moving his hand through his hair.

Carter, on the other side of the room, remained infuriatingly calm.

"We're fortunate to be held in here, Hicks," he told the solider, casting a searching gaze around the room. "No cameras, no listening devices, no way for MI6 to check on us without opening the door - giving us just enough warning of their presence." He grinned. "There's plenty of plotting that can be done from in here!"

Hicks turned to face his superior. "And how does that help Captain Becker when we have no means of communicating with him?" he asked, a little sarcastically.

Carter just smiled enigmatically. "Wait and see, Sergeant, wait and see."

Hicks frowned and continued his pacing.

* * *

><p>Becker and Jess made it back to the hotel without any further mishap. They found the others in Matt and Emily's room and Becker especially was relieved to see everyone together and unharmed. Connor was sat at the table, hunched over a new laptop, creating encryption systems and firewalls to protect them from any prying eyes. His fingers flew over the keyboard, soft clicks sounding rapidly as he made contact with the plastic. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a deep groove between them, his tongue poking out between his lips. Occasionally he would make "kapow" noises as each firewall was completed.<p>

Matt, Abby and Emily sat on the large double bed, pouring over the details of the house that the two women had procured. Matt listened as Emily explained their choice of property. It was a large Victorian terraced house with an entrance hall and kitchen on the lower floor, two large reception rooms and a bedroom with en-suite on the middle floor. One reception and the bedroom had doors accessing a good sized balcony giving an excellent vista across the city. The top floor boasted two further bedrooms and a "Jack and Jill" bathroom. There was an old wrought iron fire escape running down the rear wall of the property and a cellar beneath the kitchen with access to the outside via a coal shute. It was a large house, suitable for all of them, non-descript and as anonymous as any of the other houses on the same street, with good visibility over the gardens and several entry - or indeed exit - points should they need them. Matt nodded his approval and Abby told him they had paid a deposit and could move in as early as tomorrow.

Becker had to admit he was impressed. The house exceeded his expectations and he was sure it would make a good base of operation. He was about to congratulate Abby and Emily when Connor whooped from the table behind him. They all turned to see Jess stood next to a jubilant Connor who was doing a victory dance in his chair. He stopped as he saw the team's quizzical expressions and grinned widely.

"Firewalls set up, encryption sequences completed. We can go anywhere on this baby and MI6 will never know!" he declared happily.

Becker strode over to him.

"Have you set up the Youtube account I asked for?" he demanded, pleased with Connor's work but not about to let the scientist know that.

Connor's smile faltered fractionally before he replied. "Yep, just as you asked for." He demonstrated by accessing the account immediately.

"Great," Becker said grimly. "Add a video - text only."

Connor clicked a few keys. "Okay, what do you want me to upload?"

Becker grabbed a notepad and wrote down a series of strange shapes before thrusting it in front of Connor.

"Ooooh, a secret code!" Connor exclaimed animatedly. "Do we get cool nicknames now too?" His excited eyes met Becker's stony serious ones and his jovial expression fell. "Oh, okay, so - not then."

Becker shook his head and moved towards Matt to discuss the logistics of moving house and fortifying the perimeter.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Collier sauntered towards the MI6 guards stationed outside the guest quarters with a tray containing a soup tureen, two bowls and some roughly torn hunks of bread. The guards raised their hands to arrest his advance and Collier grinned.<p>

"The boss says the criminals must be fed to keep them healthy for interrogation," he announced loudly.

The guards eyed him suspiciously. After all, just because Commander Thompson had promoted him, it didn't mean they had to trust him, right? He was only there to keep the remaining ARC soldiers in line.

"What's in the pot?" demanded Jenkins, the more senior of the two guards.

"Soup," grinned Collier. "Thompson wants them fed - but not too well fed."

The guards grinned back, agreeing with their Commander. However, their suspicious nature prevailed and Jenkins insisted on inspecting the tray and lifting the lid on the tureen just to be sure. Tomato soup - yeuch. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and replaced the lid, motioning to Collier to continue on.

The loud knock reverberated off the steel door making Hicks jump and spin around to face the threat. The door grated open to reveal Collier and his soup. Carter bridled immediately on seeing the soldier, the traitor.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming in here, Collier!" he threatened, his voice low and menacing.

Collier ignored him and placed the tray down on the one and only table.

"The new boss thought you should eat. I disagreed - a little starvation may have sped up your attitude adjustments." Collier snickered. "Still, enjoy your dry bread and lukewarm soup."

Almost snarling, Carter edged forward but Collier had already turned and exited the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Grinning, Carter turned to Hicks.

"Time to eat!" he announced, lifting the lid from the soup tureen.

Hicks was confused by Carter's apparent and sudden change of mood and even more so when the Lieutenant delved his hand into the tomato soup.

"Carter - what the hell?" he demanded.

Carter's grin widened as his fingers curled around an object in the soup. He was glad Collier had been right about one thing - the temperature of the soup was just tepid, cool enough not to melt the skin from his arm at least! He retrieved his hand, fingers now clasped around something kept safe from the soup in a sealed plastic bag. Chuckling at Hicks' incredulous expression, Carter unwrapped the object - a small tablet device, 3G so as not to be detected on the main ARC internet signal. He held it up triumphantly and watched Hicks' jaw drop.

"Now we can communicate," he told the Sergeant smugly.

"Becker's idea?" asked Hicks when he finally found his voice and Carter nodded. "You know," continued Hicks. "The more I get to know him, the more that man scares the hell out of me."

Carter chuckled in agreement.

The Lieutenant switched on the device and immediately accessed the Youtube channel that he and the Captain had discussed a few days earlier in the armoury.

"Yes!" he muttered as he found a video had already been uploaded. But the video made no sense and his euphoria faded. It was just a jumble of shapes - it meant nothing!

Sighing, he set the tablet down on the bed. He had known Becker would message him in code - but he had thought it would at least be a code he could decipher!

Hicks picked up the tablet and shook his head.

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked in frustration.

"Unfortunately I have no idea," replied Carter, a little dejectedly. But he knew he was going to have to work out the cipher and quickly if they were to be of any use to the Captain at all.

Hicks began ranting, something about "Becker using a code that they had half a hope of deciphering" but Carter wasn't really listening. His mind was racing. What if he couldn't figure it out? What if he failed? He couldn't disappoint Captain Becker, he just couldn't!

Some of Hicks' rant began to filter back into Carter's brain -

"- I mean, I know a code shouldn't be decipherable by the world and his mother but it should at least mean something to us, shouldn't it!"

Carter sat rigid on the bed. What had he said? The world and his mother? Something about that expression rang loud bells in Carter's subconscious. The world and his mother…his mother. The light bulb flicked on and Carter grabbed the tablet, staring hard at the shaped outlined there. A few short months ago, Carter had commanded the mission to rescue Becker's mother from the Afghani terrorists. During that mission he had learnt that the elderly lady was blind. He had spent a short while in her house in Hampshire where he remembered many of the books in the library were translated into Braille, the language blind people read with their fingertips. Could that be it? Could these shapes, these symbols, simply be Braille? Not willing to get Hicks' hopes up, he left the Sergeant to his ranting whilst he grabbed a napkin from the soup tray and a pen that he had hidden in his boot. Using the tablet, he Googled the Braille alphabet, carefully transcribing each shape, each letter, accurately onto the napkin. Then he flicked back to the video and translated:

"Carter. If you can read this, upload a reply with a sit rep. Out."

The Lieutenant grinned. Yep, sometimes his boss scared the hell out of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, a "nothing really happens" chapter. But there is a point to it - I promise! Let me know your thoughts by clicking on the little button below... :D**

**xxx  
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	15. The Anomaly Catastrophe

**A/N Hello folks! Yes, its another chapter - you lucky lovelies! The beginning may seem a little "out of sorts". This is because I originally wrote in the scene with Becker and Jess and then decided, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it a T rating! Therefore, if you want to know what Connor saw - head on over to the M-rated page as the short scene will be up as a stand-alone story (hopefully by Saturday!). **

**Thanks to SandyLeePotts and Prawn Crackers for their help! :D  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval, that privilege goes to Impossible Pictures (love them) and ITV(the bastards - ooooh, hope that's not libellous!). Anyway, if I did own Primeval, Becker's uniform would be less of a black tac vest and more of a sparkly red thong...ooooooh, off to LaLa Land! ;D  
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* * *

><p>Connor tumbled into the hotel room he shared with Abby, minus the bucket of ice she had asked him to get.<p>

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," he muttered, jumping around the room like a demented frog. "I'm in so much trouble!"

"Connor!" exclaimed Abby, emerging from the en-suite bathroom. "What on earth's the matter?"

"He's so going to kill me, he's going to kill me!" chattered Connor, miserably.

Abby frowned and shook her head, not understanding. "Calm down, Connor. Whose going to kill you?"

"Becker!" squeaked Connor. "Its not funny!" he cried as he saw Abby smirk.

Abby sat down on the bed, her face twisted with amusement. "What have you done now?"

Connor hopped from foot to foot, literally unable to stand still. "I walked in on them. I heard crashes and screaming. I thought they were in trouble!" he gabbled, rivalling Jess in his incoherence.

"Walked in on who - doing what?" Abby pressed, carefully.

Connor's face grimaced at the memory. "Them! Becker and Jess! Doing - doing - IT!"

Abby couldn't repress her snigger, then bit her lip as she caught sight of her boyfriend's terrified face.

"Connor," she soothed as best she could through her mirth. She took hold of his hand and pulled him down on the bed beside her. He stared at her wide eyed, looking years younger with that much fear in his big brown eyes. She stroked his face and his hair lovingly, gently, as she would a frightened creature. Once she felt his breathing had returned to normal, that he had calmed enough for a rational conversation, she smiled at him, a calculating predatory smile.

"Now, slowly Connor, tell me everything," she said. Her hand moved from his face to stroke his thigh, and she heard his breath begin to quicken again. And she knew her interrogation technique never failed.

* * *

><p>The anomaly alert resounded through the ARC, making the two soldiers incarcerated in the guest quarters tense and nervous. Carter grimaced, worried about how MI6 would handle what was a potentially lethal situation, worried about how his security team would react under MI6 direction. He hoped Collier held it together and brought everyone home safe. He had every faith in his Sergeant, he knew the plan well enough, but it was his job to worry about the men, just as Captain Becker had taught him.<p>

They heard shouts from the corridors, the sound of combat boots thudding down metal corridor floors, then all was silent. Carter paced the room, itching to be out there, in the field, facing the danger. The small tablet smartphone vibrated in his pocket and, glancing briefly at Hicks, he withdrew it and read the message. Co-ordinates, sent by Collier, longitude and latitude of the anomaly site. Quickly, he converted the message into a Braille cipher and ordered Hicks to upload the images to the Captain's Youtube account. He could only hope they would receive the message in time. He had never realised how difficult it was, just waiting.

* * *

><p>The anomaly flickered in the woods, visible in the bright sunlight only in the shadow cast by the canopy of the trees. Commander Thompson had led this mission, determined to see the anomalies for himself. Now, stood in front of one, he was awed by its dazzling perfection and yet possessed by a lingering feeling of fear at its very wrongness here in this wood.<p>

The MI6 techs had already begun setting up their monitoring equipment, much of it retrieved from the ARC, trying to ascertain to which era the portal led. A scouting party was being assembled to assess what lay beyond, Thompson being certain that whatever was on the other side should hold no fear for the might of MI6.

Becker, Connor and Matt watched events from a small escarpment above the anomaly, hidden by thick foliage. They were stunned to see Thompson order a small contingent of ARC soldiers to go through the anomaly and report back. Oh, the arrogance of the man! The security team tried to protest; it was against everything that Captain Becker had drilled into them over the last two years. But Thompson was in no mood to hear about Captain Becker, nor his rules, which Thompson personally considered cowardly.

Glancing at each other in trepidation, the soldiers had no alternative but to comply with their orders and the four men carefully stepped into the flickering light. Moments later, screams were heard from somewhere beyond the anomaly. A man's head appeared briefly back in his own reality before he was pulled back into a different time by something unseen, unknown. In front of a shocked Commander Thompson, the orb of light blinked, destabilised, then closed, trapping the four men on the other side with whatever it was for company.

Commander Thompson turned white, then grey. He ground his teeth, pursed his lips and marched silently from the scene. Lieutenant Collier screamed at the ARC detail to keep their cool, the ranks being in serious danger of lashing out at the MI6 soldiers who outnumbered them. The ARC soldiers were still equipped with EMDs but Thompson had furnished his own men with conventional firearms, much to Collier's disgust. Trouble was, if the ARC security team took on MI6, he knew the outcome would be less than favourable for his men and he couldn't take that risk. Not without direct orders from either Carter or Becker, anyway.

Instead, he ordered a few of his men to keep a round the clock watch on the anomaly site in case it re-opened and gave them the opportunity to assist their comrades. The rest were ordered to pack up their kit and head back to the ARC, just as the MI6 soldiers were doing without a second thought. Much of the security team protested loudly, arguing with Collier, making it difficult for the new Lieutenant to maintain his authority, his control. Commander Thompson watched as the ARC ranks descended into near chaos and shook his head despairingly. Perhaps he had been wrong in promoting this Collier fellow. He clearly lacked the control needed. Thompson would need to rectify his mistake as soon as possible. He didn't want to have to incarcerate the entire ARC staff. He would rather use them on the frontline, taking the brunt of the dangers, before his own men. They were the expendable ones, after all. But, they had to be kept under control at all costs. He turned away, just as Collier finally took charge of the dissenting ranks and they followed his orders then with little more than hushed grumbles as they trudged back through the trees to the waiting SUVs.

Up on the embankment, Becker sighed heavily and let his head drop to the muddy ground on which he lay, knowing he had lost four good men on the other side of that anomaly. And whilst Collier had to keep up hope in front of the men that their colleagues may yet be recovered alive, Becker knew they would not be. That their fate had been decided the minute they had been forced through the anomaly. Privates James, Grey, Oldridge and Sewell; Becker catalogued each man, burying their names deep in his guilt complex so they would never be forgotten. Damn Thompson! Damn that man to the pits of hell! He ground his teeth in anger and frustration.

Matt patted his friend on the back, feeling his pain.

"Becker, there was nothing we could have done for them," he reassured, softly.

Becker raised his head and glared at the Team Leader.

"We could have got here quicker and locked that anomaly before MI6 showed up!" he argued, his anger evident even in his hissed whisper.

"That's always been the plan," Matt felt it as much as Becker, the failure of being late. But, being much more pragmatic than the soldier, he knew that beating themselves up over it would not change the past. Both men looked over at Connor whose face was crestfallen. This was his fault. If he'd just checked the account earlier. He swallowed loudly as he faced the Team Leader and the Captain.

"It won't happen again," he promised, nervously. He held up his new smartphone. "I've set up the notifications now. We'll be alerted immediately any message is uploaded to the account." He paused, glancing over to where the anomaly had been, where the four ARC soldiers had once stood.

"I'm really sorry, Becker."

Matt felt Becker tense beside him and decided it was enough.

"Time to go, guys," he ordered, already crawling his way back through the undergrowth to their car - hurriedly disguised with branches and ferns from the forest floor.

Connor waited anxiously for Becker to move out before following on behind. He didn't like bringing up the rear particularly but right now, for his own safety, he wanted to keep Becker where he could see him.

* * *

><p>Becker was quiet and withdrawn as they moved into their new residence, their new hub of operations, still brooding about that morning's events. Connor kept out of his way as much as possible and the soldier abandoned the group to set up a secure perimeter around the garden and exits of the house. He needed to be alone, to rationalise what had happened, to direct his anger in the right way.<p>

Jess watched him from the balcony, wishing she could help him somehow, yet knowing he would not let her. Matt joined her briefly and flashed her a rare, apologetic smile.

"He'll be fine, Jess, you'll see," he told her gently, before disappearing back into the house to assist Connor in setting up a makeshift lab. Jess continued to watch Becker for a short while longer, his pain reflected in her own eyes, before reluctantly returning into the house.

Later, as Jess fretted in the living room, trying to distract herself by assisting Connor in building a makeshift anomaly detector, Matt found Becker leaning on the balustrade of the balcony, alone, staring stony-faced out into the city. And Matt knew he was wallowing. Quietly, he leant against the railing next to the soldier and the pair stood there in companionable silence for several minutes.

"It wasn't your fault, you know that," stated the Team Leader, gently but firmly.

Becker sighed, a long drawn out sound full of frustration.

"If we'd just been ten minutes earlier, we might have saved them!" His voice cracked with loss and regret.

"Maybe," Matt conceded slowly. "But we don't know that for sure. And we need to learn from this - we have learned from this. Connor's already putting extra plans in place to decrease our response time."

"But what if -," began Becker.

"No, Becker!" Matt cut in. "What ifs are no good right now. You need to think "What's next" and move on."

Becker stared at his boss, his eyes momentarily displaying the depth of his pain. He wondered briefly at Matt's detachment and he envied him. Coming from a future he, Becker, had once seen, however briefly, he could understand how one needed to be emotionally separate to survive. He remembered being that detached once. After he lost Shamsi, he separated himself from the rest of the world, his defences impenetrable, absolute. And then he had started work at the ARC. It had taken those people surprisingly little to soften him; taken one person in particular just a babble and a smile to disarm him. And he found it crippling. And for that brief moment, the pain showed. Then he squared his jaw and his military mask closed off his features once more. He nodded grimly at Matt, acknowledging that the Team Leader was right. Matt inclined his head at the soldier in return, before slapping him hard on the back.

"Now, come back inside. That's an order. The girls have made dinner."

Becker raised an eyebrow. "They've cooked?" he asked, warily.

Matt smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Nope, Its takeout!"

Becker blew out a relieved breath and followed Matt back into the house.

* * *

><p>Jess, Abby and Emily were just furnishing the small living room table with boxes of Chinese takeaway, Connor already dipping into them before they were barely opened. Abby slapped his hand playfully, earning herself his best puppy dog-eyed expression at which she chuckled. Glancing round to check that the rest of the team were distracted, both Emily and Jess having moved away to collect crockery, Abby placed a battered pork ball into her mouth before leaning forward and kissing her fiance, pushing the pork ball between his lips. Connor grinned and chewed appreciatively.<p>

"Needs sauce," he mumbled with his mouth full.

Abby frowned, then dipped her finger into the sweet and sour sauce, smoothing some onto his lips. Licking them, Connor murmured his thanks.

This tender exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Matt and Emily, bowls in hand, eager to tuck in too. Emily wanted to try a bit of everything and piled her plate high, much to both Matt and Connor's amusement.

"And you say I eat too much!" Connor protested, looking at Abby, with noodles now protruding from his mouth, dripping sauce down his chin.

Abby lovingly dabbed it away with her napkin.

Becker moved silently behind Jess, who was stood a little way from the others, watching their antics with a small smile. He curled his arms protectively around her waist, catching her by surprise and making her gasp and jump slightly. Amused by her reaction, he bent his head into her neck, kissing the warm skin of her throat gently and then whispering, his breath tickling her ear, "Got any prawn crackers?"

He felt Jess giggle at his reference to their first meal together. She half turned in his arms to bestow her smile on him, pleased that he had remembered what she had always considered to be the turning point in their relationship.

Brushing her lips against his, she murmured, "I saved one, just for you."

Taking his hand, she drew him closer to the rest of the group, feeling the warmth of their friendship envelop them as they shared their meal with banter and laughter - a brief, light moment in their difficult situation.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Awwwwww, such tender moments! But you know it won't last, don't you!? Hahahahahahahahahahaha :D**


	16. The Truth Will Out

**A/N Another update, I hear you cry! I know! Spoiling you, I am! :D  
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**In this A/N I just wanted to welcome my "Guest Reviewer" and say thank you for your review of Chapter One. As I cannot respond to you personally - because you don't have the bottle to put your name to your comments - I thought I would address some of your concerns. **

**Firstly, of course the anomaly was detected by the ARC - that's why Abby and Matt turned up at the end of the chapter. But do you really expect Becker to wait until they show up? No, neither did I. **

**Secondly, may I remind you that Becker has taken on an entire pack of future predators in Series 3 Episode 8, with nothing but a shotgun and a handgun, and lived to tell the tale. And also that Lester has survived a future predator on 2 separate occasions, with Jess surviving 1 attack. If you need references, Lester's first encounter was in Series 2 when the Mammoth saved him, and the second (and Jess's first) was in Series 5 Episode 6. So, why on earth would you think that Becker could not have survived? Yes, the predators are intelligent (but not necessarily "legally" (?!) so), and that is why it is toying with him in the chapter - its not a mindless killing machine, its having a little fun! It obviously didn't bank on Jess blasting it with an EMD.**

**And, lastly, have you watched old episodes of Primeval recently? I seriously recommend you do. If you do, you would discover that Abby has never worked at London Zoo. Most of the early action happened in the Midlands - and Abby worked at a fictitious zoo called Wellington Zoo. Just for your info.  
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**Again, I thank you for your review - I always love to see that review counter going up! - but do try and get your facts correct before correcting others. That is all.  
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**Sorry to my wonderful readers for the horribly long A/N - but it had to be said. Now, on with the chapter! :D  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, but I least I know what the hell happens on the show! :D :D :D**

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><p>After dinner, Matt and Emily curled up together on the sofa, Matt's arm draped protectively across Emily's shoulders as she leaned against him. Occasionally, he brushed his face against her curls, eyes closed, drawing the scent of her deep into his chest.<p>

Connor and Jess sat on the floor next to the small table, the plates and empty food containers now cleared away, making the final adjustments to the makeshift anomaly detector. It wasn't great, not by their standards, but it had enough power to give it a range of several miles, which was better than what they had retrieved from the ARC. The old handhelds only had a range of a few hundred metres or so. Connor and Jess were feeling pretty pleased with their achievement and Abby chuckled at their delight from the armchair behind them. She gazed at Connor, even if it was only the back of his head. He really was amazing; the most intelligent man she had ever met. She felt almost sure that if she gave him a plastic cup and a ball of string that he would somehow mcgyver broadband. As it was, now they were in the house and unable to connect to the hotel's free wifi, they were going to have to rely on internet cafes to keep in touch with the ARC. Becker had decreed that wifi was impractical as it would entail contracts and direct debits and bank accounts - all easily traced by MI6.

As Abby contemplated her fiance from her chair, Connor must have felt her scrutiny as he turned his soft brown eyes to her.

"Love you," he mouthed, liquid chocolate orbs twinkling.

"You too," she mouthed back, smiling as he grinned boyishly, dimples creasing his cheeks, at her answer.

Becker paced the length of the living room, stopping periodically to gaze out of the windows, discretely moving the curtains back to survey the garden, darkened by the night, his eyes alert to any threat. He stopped pacing suddenly and addressed the group. He didn't turn around or take his eyes from the darkness outside, but his words had the team sitting upright, their limbs tight with nerves.

"So - who wants to tell me about Lester?"

No-one answered. The silence was unbearably tense. Dropping the edge of the curtains, Becker turned to find them all staring at him.

"Well?" he demanded. He glared at the Team Leader. "Matt?"

"I told you before, Becker, I have no idea," Matt said, quietly.

The soldier's gaze flicked to Emily, who concurred with Matt.

"I, too, have no clue to what you are referring, Captain." She sounded a little put out. Whether it was because of his accusing stare or the fact that she didn't like not knowing the truth any more than he did, Becker wasn't sure. He let her be and looked at Abby.

"Do you know about the falsified evidence, Abigail?" he asked, coldly.

"Nope," she told him, confidently. "The first I heard of it was when Lester was arrested. I thought they had just made it up." And she honestly had. He wouldn't have been the first man, government official or not, to have been arrested on trumped up charges.

Becker considered this for a moment and wondered if her theory could be true. MI6 would be quite capable of inventing charges to achieve their own ends and, as much of their evidence could be deemed inadmissible due to reasons of national security, they probably wouldn't have to disclose any of it to gain Lester's conviction. Al-Qaeda and 9/11 had ensured sweeping changes to the British legal system, handing the security services licence to behave as they pleased with little or no accountability. He almost bought it, he almost turned back to the window, satisfied with Abby's explanation.

Until he caught sight of Connor and Jess, sitting side by side, eyes wide, both holding their breath, like two geeky rabbits caught in the flashlight of an EMD. Becker felt his body tense. He sighed heavily, knowing he had found the two conspirators.

"Oh God," he groaned, almost bitterly. "Temple, Jessica - tell me you didn't -,"

He didn't get to finish as Connor and Jess began to babble at the same instant.

"We didn't! Well, we did - but we had to!"

"Lester knew - he asked us!"

"What?" Becker thundered. He strode over, looming over them and the small table like a dark storm cloud as he demanded answers.

"Easy, Becker," soothed Matt, quietly, leaning forward towards the soldier as whilst watching Abby unfurl herself from the armchair, muscles contracted, like a lioness ready to pounce should Becker prove too much of a threat to her fiance.

His face hard, Matt and Abby ignored, Becker glared at the two techs.

"From the beginning - in English - tell me what you did," he enunciated slowly.

Connor took a deep breath.

"We hacked into the MI6 mainframe to try and find out what evidence they had against you."

"We found plenty," added Jess. "And gave it to Lester. He thought he could refute the majority of it but there was one item we had no defence against."

Becker ran his hand across his face.

"What?" he asked, hoarsely.

Connor and Jess exchanged nervous glances.

"They had your fingerprints," Connor admitted. "On the equipment that made the bomb." He swallowed as he stared at Becker.

"So I wrote a memo, indicating that the fingerprints had been planted, that this evidence had been forged by someone at MI6, and Connor added it to the MI6 mainframe," confirmed Jess, her cheeks colouring under Becker's steely glare.

Becker strode back to the window to assimilate this bombshell, so to speak. He was struggling to get his head around this. How could they be so reckless? How could Lester possibly have known, have agreed to this? It was ludicrous! He turned angrily on the two techs, storming towards them again, shouting in frustration.

"What the hell were you thinking? How could you be so stupid? Do you know what you have done?" he bellowed.

Abby leapt up, blocking the soldier's advance.

"Back off, Becker!" she ordered, fiercely. He blinked at her in surprise. "Let me tell you something -," she continued, poking him forcefully in the chest as she spoke. "What they did was amazing! It was brave, it was inspired, and it got you out of prison!"

She paused as the impact of her words caused Becker's expression to change.

"Without them, you would still be incarcerated at Paddington Green - and you haven't even said thank you!"

Facing down the petite blonde, Becker at least had the decency to look contrite. He glanced at Matt, who inclined his head in agreement with Abby. Becker felt the moral high ground slipping beneath his feet. He owed Connor and Jess his life. He ought to be thanking them, not berating them. But he couldn't help the nagging feeling that they had just swapped his life for Lester's.

Abby moved back to Connor's side, taking his hand in hers and gazing at him with love and pride. He'd done what he had thought was best, to get a friend out of trouble, and she wouldn't have expected anything less of him.

Becker sighed, but it was a softer sound this time. He extended his hand across the table to Connor, who took it graciously. Then he moved around to wrap Jess in his arms and kiss her forehead tenderly.

"Thank you, both of you," he said as gratefully as he could. "I do appreciate what you did for me."

Now it all made sense; how Lester had secured his release, why the bureaucrat refused to discuss with him the means utilised to gain his freedom. Damn it, these people were incorrigible - he wasn't worth the risk they took.

Connor gave Becker a small nod, acknowledging the soldier's apology, and Jess curled her arms around Becker, just pleased he no longer appeared to be mad at her. Then she felt him tense and pull away again and she bit her lip, waiting for more of his anger. Instead, when she looked up at him, he just looked confused.

He was frowning, drawing deep lines across his forehead, trying to figure out the implications of what they had told him.

"Wait. Hang on. Did you say fingerprints?" he blurted out suddenly.

Jess nodded. "Yes. They had a record of your fingerprints on the bomb making equipment found in a house in Birmingham -", she trailed off, remembering Becker's distress at having been the cause of so much loss of life.

Becker blew out a long breath and sat down heavily in an empty armchair.

"That's impossible!" he declared, forcefully.

"Becker," Connor interjected carefully. "The fingerprints were there. Jess and I saw them. There's no denying it."

Becker glared at the scientist.

"Then it was wrong. It really was false," Becker argued.

"How? Why?" stuttered Jess, quietly.

Becker exploded, he just couldn't help himself. Did they have so little faith in him?

"Do you think I'm a bloody amateur? I was wearing gloves - there's no way they've got my fingerprints on any of that equipment!"

Jess gulped as tears sprang to her eyes. What was he saying? That they had falsified evidence to refute evidence that was already false? That they had incriminated their boss and themselves for nothing? No, it had not been for nothing - it had got Becker out of prison after all.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her head and staring at the floor.

Her distress got to Becker more than he had ever imagined possible. He stared at her bowed head and felt ashamed. He should be the one apologising to her, thanking her for the very freedom that allowed him to shout at her as he had. He found himself on his knees beside her.

"Jess, Jess, don't, please," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. None of this is your fault. Or Connor's." He glanced over and earned himself a smile from the scientist. But, on catching Abigail's cold stare, he was treated to her pursed lips and realised she was not so willing to forgive as her fiance.

Becker pulled Jess into his arms, grateful that she came willingly and leant into him, taking this as her absolution of his behaviour.

He gazed around at his colleagues. No, not colleagues - his friends.

"We will get Lester out of this," he promised, before feeling a little less sure of himself and asking, "Right, Matt?"

The Team Leader nodded, his face its usual impassive mask.

"Absolutely," he concurred, firmly. "Absolutely," he repeated, quietly, as if trying to convince himself.

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><p>Thompson returned to the ARC before the rest of the security contingent. This gave him time and opportunity to figure out the best way to safeguard the reputation of MI6 in the aftermath of this fiasco. In his mind, MI6 was working for the greater good, the security of the entire nation, and therefore had to be protected at all costs. The ARC staff were expendable, expected to risk their lives through these ridiculous anomalies. It was accepted in parts of Whitehall that the ARC employees were a bunch of unruly amateurs and the Foreign Secretary was expecting Thompson to succeed in bringing them to order, a task at which Lester had spectacularly failed.<p>

So, it was with a deep-seated conviction that he was in the right that Thompson decided to lay the blame for the deaths of the four men at Lieutenant Collier's door. He called the Lieutenant to his office immediately on his return from the mission. This gave the soldier no time to compose himself or even to shower and change. He was forced to stand to attention in front of the new boss without having gathered his wits and, therefore, he had little defence for Thompson's accusations.

"Lt Collier, I have to say I have been bitterly disappointed by your performance today," began Thompson.

Collier frowned - _What? _- but remained resolutely to attention.

"Letting those four men - your four men - through that anomaly to their deaths was unforgivable."

Collier was still reeling from the deaths of the four privates - men he had known personally - his brain was numb with guilt and grief. He was slowly beginning to understand what Captain Becker went through after each anomaly alert. He was agonising so intently over what he could have done differently, what could possibly have changed the outcome, that the meaning of Thompson's words was lost for a moment.

"I expect greater things from you, Lieutenant. I will not see lives in my care so recklessly discarded," continued Commander Thompson.

His words now hit Collier like a sledgehammer. Wait, he was being blamed for their deaths? He was the one who had protested the most about their deployment through the anomaly. He goldfished for a moment, still unable to defend himself, as Thompson concluded his dressing down.

"You will write the reports on how you sent these fine young men to their deaths," Thompson spat the word "fine" as if he seriously doubted it applied to any of them. "And you will be the one to inform their families of their demise in a training accident. I'm sure you know the procedure." He paused, looking for any signs of dissent from the shell-shocked solider.

Fortunately for him, Collier was too stunned to argue. He simply blinked and nodded, just once.

"Dismissed," barked Thompson, half turning away, leaning into the drawer for Lester's whisky.

As Collier reached the door and opened it, Thompson spoke again. "Don't fail me again, Lieutenant. If so, you will find yourself incarcerated with your traitorous colleagues."

Collier paused, assimilating the threat, then exited the room, having not spoken a single word.

Lieutenant Collier felt sick, so sick he barely made it back to the armoury. Thankfully he did, but once there, he sank onto the floor, leaning against the EMD cases, eyes closed and sweating profusely. He was so not ready for this. The ultimate responsibility, safeguarding lives and then losing them. And then having the blame thrust upon him. He even had to admit to it in his report. He was to be made a scapegoat and whoever read that report would blame him for the deaths. It would be on his permanent military record and he had no choice but to live with that. Not that he didn't blame himself anyway. He should have argued further, fought harder, ordered the men to stand their ground, to not enter that anomaly. But then that would have jeopardised his position with Thompson. And Becker needed him to ingratiate himself with the man. The Captain needed the information that only he was in a position to supply.

He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his skull until his brain felt squeezed. How the hell did Captain Becker deal with this? It was unbearable. It would end up driving him mad. No wonder Becker was as detached as he was. Collier had to agree it would make the burden easier. And now he had a report to write and families to face. Not to mention the rest of the men. Would they blame him too? Was he really up to this? He hoped he wouldn't fail. He would be happy to disappoint Thompson when the time came, but to disappoint Captain Becker - well, that would be something else and he would rather die first.

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><p>Thompson was interrupted by the arrival of the foremost quantum physicist in the country, as he had demanded - Professor Connie Tennant. He almost choked on Lester's whisky. Professor Tennant was a woman? Good Lord! Could this day get any worse? Swigging the last of his drink and setting the tumbler down on to the desk with a bang, he resolved to set aside any personal misgivings for the sake of Queen and Country and beckoned the dark suited lady into his office.<p>

Prof. Tennant exited the glass walls in disbelief. Did this jumped up little twerp really expect her to believe such drivel? Anomalies? Time portals to the past? Really? It was completely ludicrous! And now he was expecting her to waste her time looking at amateur, homemade equipment and reverse engineer it. She was supposed to recreate these anomalies, with only the research of some rogue, freelance scientist to guide her. Seriously, this was beyond bonkers. She'd had no idea when she had signed the Official Secrets Act that it would entail such nonsense. Is this what the Government wasted taxpayers' money on? There had been an effective media stunt a while ago - but that's all it had been, a stunt, a marketing exercise that went wrong. She had a hard time believing in naturally occurring time disturbances, it just went against the laws of physics. Did this Thompson expect her to re-write them? Shaking her head, she sat down in Connor's office flanked by an MI6 security detail. And that was excessive too, she mused, glaring at the two men. Sighing, she opened the laptop that had been missed in the office clearout and rebooted it. What it revealed made her hold her breath for longer than was good for her. Was this really possible? She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ears, and settled down, her smile widening with each new discovery.

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><p><strong>AN Poor Collier - you have to feel for the man! The action hots up next chapter! I welcome all reviews - including my "Guest". Lets get that counter rolling on up to 250! :D**


	17. The Child and The Hero

**A/N Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I had a lot to sort out and again it has got away from me a bit (once I start writing I don't seem to be able to stop!). As a result I have chopped the chapter in half - but at least that means you won't have to wait so long for the next update! :D**

**This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Saden Becker, an FF Legend x  
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><p>Dr. Connie Tennant PhD stared at the information flickering on the laptop screen. It was astonishing, incredible, taking the physics she thought she knew so far out of the bounds of probability as to make it more science fiction than fact. And yet, here it was, in all its simple algorithms, in perfect clarity. Anomalies, rips in space and time, safely allowing humans passage to long bygone eras and back again. It was, well, it was astonishing.<p>

And the scientist who had conducted this research , who had discovered how to recreate such a magical phenomenon? She had never heard of him, what was his name? Connor Temple? He had no doctorate, no PhD, and yet he was capable of such genius as this! She had to meet this man. She must.

Clicking on the keyboard, making notes as she went (for she had always preferred pen and paper), she had no idea how Commander Thompson had come by this laptop and all the precious information it contained. She did not know it had been hidden behind a wall panel and therefore missed by the ARC clean up team. Nor that it had been discovered during a routine MI6 bug sweep. Nor that it had originally been hidden there by Connor Temple in childish defiance after his betrayal by Abby and Matt before the New Dawn near-apocalypse. Something that Connor Temple himself had long since forgotten.

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><p>On the coffee table in the living room of the new hub, Connor Temple's smart phone vibrated loudly. Immediately, the scientist roused from dozing on the sofa and deposited himself on the floor.<p>

"Ow," he groaned quietly before grabbing the phone and alerting the others.

"New co-ordinates, guys!" he shouted, pushing himself up from the floor and checking the longitude and latitude on Google maps. "Not far from here," he confirmed. "We may even make this one before MI6".

Six people moved in synchronicity, all performing the various vital parts that made a single, perfect machine. Connor packed the portable ADD and the locking device into a holdall whilst Matt checked the co-ordinates on his newly acquired Sat-Nav, committing the route to memory. Abby and Emily secured the equipment into rucksacks, stopping briefly as Jess handed everyone a walkie-talkie, stone-age technology compared to the earpieces, but they would have to do. Becker began handing out EMDs, passing Abby spare power packs to be stowed with the rest of the equipment. He froze as Jess held out her hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, withdrawing the EMD before Jess could grasp it.

"Going with you," Jess told him flatly.

"No," he stated, forcefully. "Absolutely not!"

All eyes turned on Becker. Jess seemed to quiver for a moment before steeling herself to stand her ground.

"Why not?" she demanded. "I'm perfectly capable of handling an EMD, as you well know," she added pointedly.

Becker's face hardened. "I know that, Jess, but you're still not going."

"But why? I want to help!" protested Jess.

"You're not field personnel, Jessica," insisted Becker, gruffly.

Jess pouted. "So, you just expect me to sit here and wait?" she asked, exasperated.

Becker nodded. She'd be safer here. He wouldn't have to worry about her. Correction, he always worried about her, he just wouldn't have to worry about her as much if she remained here.

"But Becker! There's nothing to for me to do here! I can't co-ordinate, there are no Comms! I'll just be sat here, alone, knowing you're all out there, in danger -," her voice petered out as Matt cut in.

"Becker," he said quietly. "Outside. Now." He indicated the balcony with a jerk of his head.

The Captain stared hard at the Team Leader, not wanting to obey but having little choice. With a grunt he stalked out of the patio door into the bright sunlight.

Emily had moved protectively towards Jess, as Abby and Connor exchanged a frustrated look, both wanting to get on the way to save what little time advantage they had. Matt gave Emily and Jess a tiny, encouraging smile before disappearing after the soldier.

Outside, Becker leant against the wall of the building, his eyes closed to the sun. He knew what Matt would say, knew that he had lost this battle before it was begun. He winced when Matt spoke.

"You know, as Team Leader, this is my call," Matt reminded the younger man softly.

"Matt, you can't let her go out there!" Becker spat, his fear making him angry.

There was a pause before Matt spoke again and when he did it was most gently.

"Becker, you have to put your personal feelings aside," he told the soldier. "Its clouding your judgment."

Becker sighed but remained silent. So Matt continued in the same soft, gentle tone.

"I know how you feel, mate, I really do." He paused for a second, to find the right words. "What do you think she will do if you forbid her to go?"

"I can't lose her, Matt," Becker whispered, without opening his eyes.

"But you will, Becker, if you insist on her remaining behind. You can be sure she won't thank you for it," Matt stated, knowing Becker had meant something entirely different.

Becker opened his eyes then and gazed meaningfully at his boss.

"How do you do it, Matt?" he asked, hoarsely.

Matt's brow creased. "You mean Emily?"

Becker nodded.

Matt sighed. He hated Emily putting herself in danger. But what he hated more was the knowledge that there wasn't a damned thing he could about it.

"Emily is a strong, independent, courageous woman. She lived through the anomalies for years, don't forget. Nothing I say would persuade her not to put herself in harm's way. I have to accept that. I have accepted that. All I can do is trust her."

And he did trust her. She was as ferocious and inventive as the creatures they tackled and he knew she had his back as much as he had hers. But he didn't have to like it.

"Jess isn't like that, Matt," Becker said, quietly, thinking of the young, innocent girl that normally sat behind the ADD.

Matt smiled grimly. "That's the thing about the ARC, mate. It breeds a certain type of woman. Jess may be young, but she's as strong as Emily, as fierce as Abby and more resourceful than anyone else I know. She's taken on predators in the ARC and handled a terrorist with more courage than some men would have." He watched as Becker flinched at the word "terrorist" and understood the extent of the man's pain.

"Becker," his tone was gentle again. "Would you really prefer to leave her here, alone and undefended?"

Becker's head snapped up immediately, from where it had lolled in resignation throughout Matt's speech.

"No," he conceded, unhappily.

"Then she comes with us," Matt decided. "She will be fine. Well protected. You and I will make certain of that," he promised the soldier. "Right?"

Becker sighed and nodded reluctantly.

Matt turned to leave but was restrained by Becker's firm hand on his arm.

"Matt, I brought enough Kevlar for everyone to wear a Tac Vest. MI6 will be using live fire out there. Will you give me that at least?"

The soldier's face was impassive, his defences reinstated, but his hazel eyes pleaded with the Team Leader.

Matt nodded once and Becker withdrew his hand. The Captain's eyes hardened until you could no longer see the fear behind them and they returned inside.

The team were grouped together in the middle of the living room, equipment packed, bags slung over shoulders, poised and ready. All eyes turned to the men as they re-entered the room. Except Jess. She kept hers firmly fixed to the floor. Emily squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

"Jess," Matt addressed them with authority. "You're part of the team." He handed her a small EMD as Jess raised her head in surprise. "But," Matt continued. "You stay with Connor and assist him in locking the anomaly. Under no circumstances are you to engage a creature or MI6. Is that clear?"

They both felt Becker's eyes heavy on them and she nodded, unable to believe her luck.

"Understood," she murmured, reining in her girly desire to squeal with delight and hug the Team Leader in gratitude.

Becker began handing out Tac Vests to everyone and they stared quizzically at Matt.

"I agree with Becker on the Kevlar. We should all wear one - just in case." Matt confirmed.

Emily took hers and secured it immediately on her person, indicating her total support of Matt's decision and Abby and Connor followed suit. Matt couldn't help a twitch of a smile at Connor's reaction.

"Cool!" exclaimed the scientist excitedly, striking a James Bond-like pose in the military vest.

Becker stopped in front of Jess and met her wide-eyed expression stony faced. She swallowed as he pulled the Tac Vest over her head and secured it before grabbing two large EMDs and striding towards the door, having not said a single word.

Jess's excitement at accompanying a mission for the first time dissipated. Becker was unhappy and she was the cause. Well, she thought, hefting her own EMD, she would just have to prove to him how capable she really was.

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><p>The anomaly sparkled and flickered, looking ethereal in the early morning light. Fog lingered in the clearing, making it seem even more surreal. Jess thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful, quite so mesmerising. She was captivated by it. Becker glanced at her as she stopped walking and his chest lurched with such force it felt like his heart had struck his ribs. Her face, lips opened slightly in wonderment, was bathed in soft, golden light, the crystals reflecting in her big blue eyes, made even larger by the shimmering anomaly. Her hair, left loose and gently curled at the ends, glowed, the mixture of anomaly and early morning sunlight picking out warm red and gold strands from the mahogany waterfall cascading over her shoulders. She was luminous, like a magical wood nymph or celestial seraphim. Becker was momentarily spellbound, entrapped in this vision, unable to function. He had forgotten that Jess had never really seen an anomaly first hand and he was awed by its beauty reflected by her - or was it her beauty reflected by it?<p>

Feeling his eyes on her, Jess turned her head towards him, wanting to share this miraculous moment with him and briefly catching the adoration in his gaze before the spell was broken and Becker's expression hardened as he looked away. He stalked off, after Matt, the length and purpose of his stride betraying his irritation. Jess sighed, her good spirits now thoroughly crushed, and trudged slowly after the team, thankful that she was wearing her trainers, the same as the others. Well, no, they weren't the same as the others, actually. Her face brightened again as she caught sight of the Swarovski crystals, clustered in the Nike logo, sparkling with the morning dew. They might be pumps but they were still gorgeous.

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><p>Matt cautiously surveyed the area. No sign of MI6 yet but that didn't mean they weren't on their way and he had no idea how soon they would arrive. It was a difficult decision but he had to split the team in order to cover the most ground. He gave his orders quickly, indicating the need for urgency, based on the team's strengths.<p>

"Emily, Abby, scout the woods for any sign of an incursion," he paused and his face was grave. "Use the walkie-talkies to call for back-up if you find anything. Do not attempt to deal with a creature without calling for assistance first. Clear?"

The women nodded curtly, once, and Matt turned his attention to the two techs.

"Connor, Jess, lock the anomaly. Connor, we need the locking device close enough to the anomaly to maintain the field but far enough away that we can conceal it. I don't want MI6 to locate it and re-open the anomaly."

"Conceal the locking device. Check," the scientist confirmed with another nod.

Matt stared hard at Jess, trusting the small woman but very aware of the big angry man to his left. "Jess, stay close to Connor. Under no circumstances are you to engage a creature or MI6, is that understood?"

Jess paled under Matt's scrutiny and felt Becker's glare and her protest failed to materialise. She nodded meekly instead. "Yes Matt."

"Becker and I will secure the area and deal with MI6 when they arrive. Maintain radio contact at all times. Let's go."

And with that final order from the Team Leader, the group split up.

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><p>Abby and Emily picked their way quietly and carefully through the trees that surrounded the clearing looking for any signs of an incursion: tracks, small dead animals, heavily trodden undergrowth. And they listened intently for any noises no indigenous to the woodland - out of place cries, growls or snarls. So far they had found nothing.<p>

Suddenly Abby's head whipped round to her left, towards an area particularly thick with brambles.

"What?" hissed Emily urgently, immediately raising her EMD, muzzle pointed towards the bushes.

"Thought I heard -" whispered Abby. "Yes - there! Listen!"

The girls concentrated, alert for the sound. There was a loud rustle, followed by a snort and a staccato "whee-wheeing" sound that could easily have been mistaken for a wild pig. But Abby seriously doubted that there were any wild pigs this close to London, even if the woodland was relatively dense.

"Come on!" she urged and launched herself towards the sound.

"Abby - wait!" Emily cried. "Matt said -"

But it was too late; Abby was already off and running into the brambles. Sighing, Emily followed her, more cautiously, raising the walkie-talkie to her mouth.

"Matt, we may have an incursion. No details yet. Stand by," she transmitted before forging on after the zoologist.

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><p>Connor stared at the anomaly. He would never get used to how incredible they were. How impossibly, nonsensically, incredible. And beautiful, with its constantly changing crystals of light. And dangerous, he reminded himself solemnly, tearing himself away to retrieve the locking device. He sighed. Matt wanted the device to be placed close enough to be effective but far enough away so as to be less easily discovered by MI6. These calculations had never been figured before. Previously, they had just left the locking device directly in front of the anomaly until it closed permanently. Now he was going to have to calculate the range of the device's electrical field in order to reasonably estimate the most practical area in which to secure it. And without any scientific measuring equipment. There was only one thing for it; trial and error - the scientists' friend. He grinned and fired up the device.<p>

Jess stood close by, EMD at the ready, eyes locked on the woodland beyond, searching for any indications of MI6 presence. She was relieved when she saw nothing.

"How's it going, Connor?" she asked, quietly.

"Anomaly's locked," Connor told her as the flickering crystals became a shimmering sphere. "Now all we have to do is walk backwards with the locking device until the electrical field becomes so weak that the anomaly re-opens. That's the threshold where we have to conceal the device."

Jess nodded and covered Connor with her EMD as he walked slowly backwards across the clearing. The range of the locking device was further than either of them had expected but, at around 300 yards, the anomaly shuddered and re-opened. Connor's grin widened and he took a few steps forward, back into the range of the device, and prepared to re-lock the anomaly. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be fast enough.

As soon as the anomaly re-opened, a large horned beast charged its way through, angry, frightened and without a thought for what may lie in its way. What was in its way was a young field co-ordinator whose hands fumbled frantically with her EMD which failed to discharge. Something slammed into her side, knocking the wind and the scream out of her before landing heavily on top of her on the muddy, dewy ground. Expecting it to have been whatever had emerged from the anomaly, Jess scrunched her eyes tightly closed, waiting for the agony of crushed limbs to overwhelm her. Nothing happened, except the weight on top of her shifted and groaned. She opened her eyes for find Connor gingerly lifting himself above her and rolling over into the grass. Feeling more than a little relieved, Jess sat up slowly.

"Connor?" she queried.

The dark haired man groaned again as he turned back to face her.

"You pushed me out of the way?" she asked softly, amazed by his actions.

"Yep," he confirmed simply, before groaning again and reaching for his ankle.

The movement caught Jess's attention. She crawled across to him and yanked up his trouser leg to reveal the joint - now swollen and turning purple with bruising.

"Ow," moaned Connor. "Think I've bumped myself."

"Lie still and let me strap it for you," commanded Jess, reaching into their holdall to find the necessary medical supplies. As she strapped, she gazed at Connor with gratitude.

"Thank you," she murmured sincerely, hoping Becker hadn't witnessed her ineptitude.

Connor nodded once in acknowledgement, before hissing through gritted teeth as she tightened the strapping on his ankle.

"What was it?" Jess asked, glancing nervously from left to right in case it was on its way back.

Connor grimaced. "Triceratops," he told Jess. "Better call Matt."

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, there you have it. The two sides of Connor Temple, childishly hiding sensitive equipment to get back at Abby and Matt and then heroically saving Jess's life! He's an anomaly all by himself! :D**

**Don't go away - the next chapter will be up soon. How will the team return the Triceratops under fire from MI6? :D  
><strong>


	18. The Discovery

**A/N And so the conclusion of the previous chapter - see you didn't have to wait too long! :-) This chapter is dedicated to SandyLeePotts for her constant nagging! :D Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. But if I did, there would be a Pride and Prejudice episode where Becker (aka Mr Darcy) wanders around in breeches and a very wet white shirt! Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe ;D**

* * *

><p>Matt and Becker scouted the perimeter of the clearing, close to the woodland, alert for any signs of MI6 activity. The walkie-talkie crackled with Emily's message, followed soon after by one from Connor announcing the arrival of a Triceratops through the anomaly. Matt rolled his eyes. Great, that was all they needed. He glanced at Becker to find him staring intently across the clearing, beyond the anomaly. The soldier hadn't said a word since their arrival at the anomaly site and Matt knew he was still brooding about Jess's involvement in the mission. The man really was going to have to lighten up on this issue. Being protective of the ones you love is all very well. Over-protectiveness becomes irksome and even Jess's good nature was liable to be tested eventually.<p>

Suddenly, Becker raised his hand before dropping to the ground, gaining cover from the foliage, and Matt immediately followed suit.

"What have we got?" he whispered, urgently.

"MI6 - over there." Becker indicated the far side of the clearing and Matt raised his EMD in that direction, squinting through the gun's telescopic sight to get a better look.

"Not just MI6. Collier too," he muttered and Becker grunted in response.

The walkie-talkie crackled again advising Matt that the anomaly was locked and Connor and Jess had taken cover in the woods.

"Find Emily and Abby and take care of the creature," Matt ordered the scientist. "But try and stay out of sight - MI6 are here."

"Out of sight. Check." Connor pulled a face at Jess who rolled her eyes back at him before stifling a scream as he pulled her down on the ground.

"Connor! What are you doing?" she squeaked in surprise.

He silenced her with his hand and pointed. The Triceratops was not too far away. After a year in the Cretaceous, Connor was all too aware of what could happen if one spooked the over-sized beasts. Wide-eyed, Jess quietened her protests and lay in the tall grass, very still.

"What now?" she whispered.

* * *

><p>Abby had slowed her run to a gentle jog. The squealing sound was closer now, accompanied by a rustling in the undergrowth. Cautiously, she approached, pulling back the ferns and bracken. The she sighed and grinned.<p>

"Hello, baby," she muttered, her voice low and calming. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

Emily caught up with the zoologist moments later.

"Abby! You can't just go running off like that!" she admonished.

"Shhh!" Abby hissed with a frown. Then her face softened as she beckoned Emily forward. "Look," she bade her friend.

Emily approached with caution and then grinned at Abby.

"Isn't she beautiful?" the blonde's tone was wistful as she cooed at the baby Triceratops.

Emily shook her head as much with affection for Abby as with exasperation at the other woman's reaction to the creature. Then she frowned and became serious.

"Abby - where's its mother?"

At that moment, the walkie-talkie crackled.

"Abby, where are you?" asked Connor, in a loud whisper.

"We're in the woods, approximately 500 metres west of the anomaly," replied Emily. "Abby is - busy - at present." She pulled a face as she watched Abby pet the miniature dinosaur.

"Um, you have an adult Triceratops headed your way. I'd get out of there if I were you!" Connor warned.

"An adult Triceratops?" Abby looked up at Emily's repeat.

"Yep," continued Connor. "Ask Abs if she has any ideas how to get it back through the anomaly without anyone getting trampled." There was a pause as he considered his ankle. "Again," he added quietly.

Abby grinned. "I do have an idea…" she told Emily. Turning back to the creature she crooned, "Don't be afraid. Mummy's coming for you, baby."

Emily shook her head again, unable to wrap it round Abby's instinctual closeness to the creatures.

"Connor, get back to the anomaly, ready to unlock it. Abby has an idea…"

"On our way," confirmed Connor. The two techs stood, watching the Triceratops lumber away from them. Then, with Connor leaning on Jess for support, they made their way carefully back to the anomaly.

* * *

><p>Matt and Becker had secured themselves a vantage point with a good view of the entire clearing and the anomaly. Their weapons were trained on Lieutenant Collier and the three ARC soldiers who flanked him. MI6 had again hung back for their own safety, something which Becker especially despised. The anomaly was still locked, there were no sign of creatures or the former ARC team. Both men hoped this meant MI6 would pack up and go home. Both men also knew their hope was a false one.<p>

Collier stared at the anomaly. It was spherical, hard and barely shimmering; not the open, glowing ball of light that it should have been. It was locked, somehow. He glanced around the clearing but saw nothing and no-one. Tapping his earpiece, he spoke to the MI6 agent in charge of the mission.

"Captain Holmes, the anomaly is locked."

"What do you mean - its locked?" came the curt and disbelieving reply.

"Its locked, sir." Collier repeated. "Somehow, the anomaly must have spontaneously locked itself." Even as he said it, Collier didn't believe it for a minute. He knew the plan well enough.

"As far as I am aware, Lt Collier, anomalies don't just lock themselves!" spat Captain Holmes. "No, this is a man-made act." He paused. "Becker and Anderson are here."

He snapped his fingers at the MI6 contingent. "Find them!"

Becker tensed as he watched the ten agents fan out across the clearing, walking slowly towards Collier and the anomaly. His tension increased as he saw Connor and Jess appear at the edge of the woodland, directly in view of MI6. Just then, the sun crested the top of the trees, momentarily blinding the agents as Matt hissed into the walkie-talkie:

"Connor - get down!"

As a cloud blew in front of the brightening sun, Connor and Jess fell into the bracken, obscured from view, breathing heavily and hoping they had avoided detection. Thankfully, only Collier had been observant enough to note the sudden movement ahead. He attempted to distract the MI6 team by shouting: "Movement! Over there!" and leading them in the wrong direction. With the agents attention diverted, Connor and Jess crawled through the grass cautiously towards the anomaly opening device, well hidden with ferns and earth.

Matt and Becker also crawled closer to the anomaly, to keep MI6 in range of their EMDs, grateful that Collier was able to command these men.

* * *

><p>Abby picked up a stout stick and several ferns, full of juicy leaves, from the forest floor. Holding out the ferns to the infant Triceratops, she coaxed it into following her as she carefully walked backwards, towards the anomaly.<p>

"Come on baby, lots of juicy leaves for breakfast. Come on."

Emily walked ahead, EMD at the ready, alert for whatever they may encounter. She was not to be disappointed as, not long after they began their slow journey, she spotted the mother Triceratops through the trees, looking none too happy that they were in such close proximity to her calf.

"Abby!" she hissed behind her. "What now?"

Abby dropped the ferns in front of the baby and, as it ate, moved slowly and quietly to stand behind it.

"This is where the plan gets interesting." She grinned at Emily. "Stand next to me, carefully, and get ready to run."

Emily moved and looked questioningly at Abby. "Run?"

"Yep. Run," Abby confirmed before raising her stick like a whip and bringing it down on the infant's rump with a loud thwack!

The baby creature squealed and bolted; it had some speed considering its bulk and small legs. The mother bellowed in fury but thankfully charged after her calf, rather than Abby and Emily. Exchanging a glance, the two women set off at pace after the fleeing creatures.

"Connor!" shouted Emily into the walkie-talkie. "Get that anomaly open - they're headed your way!"

Connor frowned. "They?" he asked Jess, who could only shrug, knowing no more than he did.

They had made it to the locking device and uncovered it.

* * *

><p>Then everything happened all at once.<p>

* * *

><p>The anomaly sprang back into life as Connor disengaged the device…<p>

The baby and mother Triceratops came charging out of the trees at full pelt, bellowing and alerting MI6...

The agents turned in surprise and began shouting and running back towards the anomaly, all discipline and authority ignored…

* * *

><p>As close as they were to the anomaly, Connor and Jess were again in danger of being trampled by the stampeding animals and in their flight to avoid the large hooves, they exposed themselves to the MI6 gunmen, one of whom was now only yards away. Creatures forgotten, the froze, both caught in the soldier's gun sights. Connor's ankle gave way and he fought to steady himself as Jess reached for her EMD, but too slowly, oh too slowly…<p>

Becker couldn't contain himself. He broke cover, yelling Jess's name, and launched himself into the direct line of fire of four MI6 agents. Matt had no choice but to react. He scrambled forward, tackling Becker at the knees, bringing him down with a heavy thud. Becker struggled against his assailant.

"Get off, Matt! Jess is in trouble!" he cried, desperately trying to free himself from the older man's grasp.

It took a well-aimed right hook to the head to subdue the agitated soldier.

"She's fine, Becker. She's handled it." Matt moved off Becker's prone body so he could turn his head to see for himself.

Jess had discharged her EMD at two MI6 agents, dropping them before she and Connor had managed to flee into the longer grass, once again concealed from sight.

Becker groaned and lay back in the grass in defeat as Matt fixed him with a hard stare.

"And now we're the targets!" he growled, indicating the four approaching men.

The soldier and the Team Leader simultaneously rolled and opened fire. EMD blasts crackled as bullets boomed. They had the better aim, however, and the MI6 men fell, unconscious, as their bullets hit nothing but earth.

During this brief reprieve, Matt fixed Becker with his sternest glare.

"You really need to get a hold on this, mate. Have a little faith in her," he told the soldier, curtly. "You almost killed yourself - and me."

Becker sighed, knowing his boss was right. What the hell was wrong with him? He had gone against every instinct he had as a soldier. Whatever she had done to him had disabled his ability to function effectively. He was distracted, dangerous even. He had put himself and Matt at risk for apparently, it would seem, no reason at all. He swallowed, hard, trying to regain his focus.

"We need to take down the rest of the agents," he advised Matt, finally re-establishing his equilibrium. "Collier and the ARC team too, otherwise we could blow their cover."

"Cover?" queried Matt, brows furrowed. Something else Becker hadn't told him?

"Collier's working for me!" Becker snapped, before taking the lead and discharging his EMD at the remaining men.

* * *

><p>Jess huddled with Connor in the long grass, more frightened than she had ever been in her life. Standing there, virtually face to face with the MI6 gunman, staring at the barrel of a real gun, had caused her to freeze instead of charging her EMD. She had felt Connor drop down beside her and heard Becker bellow her name somewhere in the distance. Thankfully, this served as a distraction and as the MI6 agent turned towards the sound, his gun fired, apparently off target, giving Jess time to raise her own weapon and successfully stun the man before he could realise his mistake. Panic made her strong and she dragged Connor away and out of sight. They now watched as MI6 men ran in confusion, away from the agitated Triceratops, still threatening to trample everyone, straight into a blur of EMD fire. Jess gasped as Collier and his team dropped to the ground, all hit by glowing blue streaks of light.<p>

Now that the MI6 threat was neutralised, Abby and Emily ran from the trees to herd the frightened creatures back through the anomaly. As before, Abby coaxed the baby with ferns and the mother followed, determined not to lose sight of her calf again. As they succeeded, Matt shouted through the walkie-talkie: "Connor, lock it down!"

Scrambling through the brush, Connor complied, wincing as his ankle complained loudly.

The anomaly was locked, MI6 was down, they had done it. But it was not over yet. They still had to get out safely before the agents came round. Re-grouping, Abby fussing over Connor's injury, Becker silent and moody, Matt embracing Emily with relief, they made their way back to the relative safety of their car, Becker watching their six for following MI6 gunmen.

* * *

><p>It was sometime later that Lieutenant Collier made it back to the ARC, with the unhappy news that the anomaly was mysteriously locked and he had failed to apprehend the renegades, Captain Becker and Matt Anderson. For, of course, it was Collier's fault. No blame would be applied to Captain Holmes. Disheartened by the unfair charges and the dressing down he had just received from Commander Thompson, Collier headed for the locker room, wanting to ease his pain under a good and hot shower. As he strode through the corridors, he witnessed a flurry of MI6 activity, their heightened level of adrenaline and excitement giving him a sickening feeling of foreboding. The feeling deepened as he met two of his men in the locker room. They were covered in blood.<p>

"Jones, Pottsy! What happened?" he demanded, shocked and horrified by their appearance.

Both men looked traumatised, haunted.

"There was another anomaly while you were out, sir," Pottsy stated, his voice flat and barely above a whisper. "Our team was sent through - to the future. It was crawling with Predators. We didn't stand a chance sir."

Predators? Thought Collier. Oh God.

"How many?" he asked, hoarsely, not wanting to know the answer.

"We lost ten men, sir. They used us as bait whilst they found what they wanted."

Collier knew exactly who "They" were - MI6. Ten men? Hell! Collier closed his eyes for a moment, needing to lean against the lockers for support, feeling his men's pain. Then the gears clicked into place and his eyes snapped open.

"Wait. Found what they wanted?" he repeated. "What did they find?"

"An anomaly opening device, sir," Jones muttered brokenly, collapsing to the floor in despair.

* * *

><p>Becker said little as he collected the Tac Vests from the team once they arrived back at the house. Piling them up, Jess's on top, he moved towards his bedroom to store them away. Jess watched him, wondering what she could do to make everything better. She didn't understand him, sometimes. He acted as if he loved her. He wanted to protect her, that much she knew. But she didn't understand how he could be so angry with her half the time. What did she do that irritated him so much? Was it really necessary to give her the silent treatment because she had been out in the field? It had been Matt's decision, after all. And she had proven herself useful, not a liability. She was sure that's how Becker viewed her, just a liability, there to make his job just a little more difficult. But she was determined not to be so. She bit her lip, hard, trying to subdue her growing resentment. Matt caught her gaze and smiled at her reassuringly, giving her at least a little hope that she would be able to fix this. She tremulously smiled back at him, before drawing in a deep breath and resolving to try.<p>

* * *

><p>Becker opened the wardrobe, playing the morning's events over in his mind, smoothing his fingers over the front of the top vest as he did so. He paused as his fingertips got caught in a tear in the fabric. Placing the others vests into the wardrobe, he touched the tear tentatively, frowning. Inserting his finger, his heart crashed through his ribcage, smashing through his pelvis, before collapsing at his feet as he withdrew a squashed metal pellet. He studied it, knowing that this small metal disc was what happened to bullets when they met Kevlar at high velocity. The top vest in his pile had belonged to Jess. Jess had been shot. The realisation hit him like a train, hard and fast and completely devastating. He felt his head swim with nausea, visualising how close he had come to losing her, before suddenly steeling himself with a gasp as he heard the door open behind him.<p>

Dropping the vest into the wardrobe and shoving the bullet into his pocket, he turned to face her.

"Becker?" she asked, softly, tentatively, wondering if she would again feel the weight of his anger.

Instead, he surprised her, holding out his arms and beckoning her to him. She gladly complied, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her head in his chest, breathing in his scent, listening to the drum of his heartbeat, knowing that now everything would be all right between them. Holding her close, Becker dropped his face into her hair, placing a soft kiss to the top of her head, vowing silently never to be persuaded against his better judgment again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, what did you think? :-)**


	19. The Night of Reflection

**A/N Sorry for the long wait. I have been trying to get inside the characters' heads. I hope I have succeeded and given an insight into their motivations. It is a little shorter than I would have liked (apologies) but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. That pleasure belongs to Impossible Pictures and ITV. I do however, own the image of Becker in my head, lying naked in a large kingsize bed, sheet pulled up only as far as his hips *faints***

* * *

><p>Sam Collier was a career-hardened soldier. His great-grandfather was an infantryman in the Great War, his grandfather had served with the Royal Armoured Corps in WWII during the invasion of Normandy in 1944, and his father had risen to the rank of Brigadier-General with the Royal Fusiliers. Collier himself had seen action in Iraq and Afghanistan before joining the ARC team, his first domestic posting. Soldiering was in his blood, as much a part of his genetic make-up as his eye colour or the size of his feet.<p>

He'd lost men before, several to horrific deaths by roadside bomb or well-hidden landmine. During the first Gulf War he had witnessed two of his good mates killed when an Iraqi T-72 tank blew their Challenger tank to twisted rubble. But, as hardened as he was, he had never lost ten men on the same day before. Ten men. He was struggling to get his head around that number. He was all too aware of how they must have died too. Future predator was a brutal way to go.

He dropped his head into his hands, but he could still hear the screaming, imagined though it was. He should have been there. He should have prevented this needless slaughter, perpetuated by MI6. But how could he when he was already out at an anomaly alert? Shaking his head, his eyes closed, he continued to mentally argue with himself as he lifted the file of the first man, thin brown manila, non-descript and marked only with name, rank and serial number, with shaking fingers. Opening it slowly, he was confronted with the mugshot of the soldier, smart in his dress uniform.

Private Jeremy "Jezza" Peters. Young fellow, just twenty years of age, engaged to be married. So young, too young to die that way. Again, he could hear the screaming.

Collier swallowed noisily and opened the next file.

Corporal Adam Johnson, "AJ" to the team, late thirties, married with two small children. Two children that were now without a father because of the arrogance of MI6. Of one man. Gritting his teeth, Collier had no doubt who was to blame for this outrage. Commander Thompson. One day, soon, he would get what he deserved. And Collier intended to be the one who gave it to him. Any which way he could.

Opening the third file, Collier felt like crying for the first time in over two decades.

Private Jennifer Green, mid-thirties, single mother, decorated for bravery. A mother, dedicated to her duty, dying for some inexplicable reason, leaving a grandmother with three children to raise.

It wasn't right, nothing about this situation was right. And it wasn't because she was a woman, or a single mother with three children. It was the sheer pointlessness of it all. Death in war was justifiable, as a soldier he had to believe that. But these deaths, and the manner in which they had occurred, held no purpose. A death should have a purpose, he argued with himself. This was pure hopelessness.

And the list went on…and on…

His hand clenched into a fist. How did one person deal with this? With knowing what happened to one's colleagues, one's friends, and then having to inform their loved ones with a carefully prepared lie. Families torn apart by their loss, that couldn't even be provided with a body to grieve over, lost as they were in the future.

Sighing, he decided he now understood why Captain Becker and Mr Lester often appeared to be severe and unapproachable. They had dealt with such horror as this for years, this was merely his first taste, and he felt as miserable as hell. He was sure that if anyone had dared venture through the office door right now, he would bark angrily at them to get out, just as Captain Becker had growled at him on many previous occasions. At the time, he had felt nothing but resentment at his treatment by the dour Captain. Now, right now, he had nothing but sympathy, empathy and admiration for the man who had endured so much on behalf of his men.

Thinking of Becker gave Lt Collier renewed strength and determination. This macabre burden was his now. His duty, whether he wanted it or not, and he was going to perform that duty to the very best of his ability, to honour the names of his dead friends, just as Captain Becker would have, were he here.

Pursing his lips, his brow furrowed, Collier picked up a pen, leaving it hovering over a large notepad as he contemplated the words he would use to describe his men's last moments to their loved ones.

Private Jeremy Peters, Private Jennifer Green, Private Andy Godfrey, Private Carl Holden, Private Mark Chicory, Corporal Adam Johnson, Private Billy Stranks, Private Tommy Longcot, Private Benjamin Bowers, and Sergeant Larry Osbourne.

All gone, all lost, but not forgotten. No, never forgotten.

* * *

><p>In his office, feet on the desk, Commander Fred Thompson was feeling remarkably pleased with himself. Yes, the ARC had lost ten men today, but none of them had been his men, MI6 men. They had all belonged to Captain Becker and that made them all traitors to Crown and country in the Commander's eyes. And being a traitor made you expendable.<p>

Besides, he would have expended double that number to get his hands on this little marvel of technology. He turned the Anomaly Opening Device over in his fingers, wondering how something no bigger than a smartphone could command the power of space and time. It really was incredible. But that's what the files indicated. This little device could open anomalies - and you could program it with where in the world and which time period you wished to go. This alone would turn the tide in favour of MI6. What the Americans would give for a device such as this! Not that he had any intentions of sharing this technology with them, arrogant, high-almighty bastards that they were.

But it would certainly give MI6 an edge against Britain's enemies abroad. Imagine being able to create an anomaly right in the centre of the Kremlin, at the height of the Cold War, and assassinate whomever one chose. What would the implications for Britain be? This small, currently insignificant country would emerge as the only Superpower, with both Russia and America needing British consultation before making any foreign policy decisions. It would give Britain the ultimate ascendancy over other nations, bringing the country as close to Empire as the modern world would allow.

And he, Commander Fred Thompson, would be the man to deliver such power to her Majesty. He may even gain a Knighthood. No, surely a Knighthood would be the least he could expect. He'd probably be awarded a whole string of honours, his name known across the land, remembered by history as the man who had made Britain Great again, although how would always remain classified.

He smirked. Not that he did all this for his own personal gratification. No, this he did for Queen and country, as a patriot, as a Briton.

All he had to do was get this scientist woman to figure out how it worked. He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes, imaging being presented to the Queen, and applauded by Sir John Sawers and the Prime Minister. As yes, the glory would be his, regardless of how many ARC soldiers he needed to sacrifice.

His thoughts turned to Captain Becker and Matt Anderson and his fist clenched. Damn it, they could have captured them today. But the terrorists were still at large, thanks, largely, to the incompetence of Lt Collier. He had reprimanded the man but wondered if his loyalty really lay with MI6. He was a good soldier, and good soldiers followed orders, no matter the source. But he had seen the flash of rebellion in the man's eyes as he had received his dressing down. He recognised that look and knew he would have to be careful with the information he gave his new Lieutenant from now on.

It was clear that Becker and Anderson had been at the first anomaly site today - and before the ARC team too. How had they known of its existence? Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, the back of the chair almost twanging like an elastic band. There were hand held detecting devices missing - but their range was limited. Did the terrorists take them? Did that mean they were close? He picked up his phone and dialled his Second in Command.

"I have a recon mission for you, Bob, but keep it quiet for now."

* * *

><p>Becker lay on his back, the sheet pulled down across his hips, his torso exposed to the cool night air, his well-defined abdominal muscles razor sharp in the soft moonlight that filtered in through the blind. His head was turned on the pillow, his eyes resting gently on the sleeping woman beside him. Her hair splashed across the pillow, dark and lustrous against the stark, white fabric. The sheet was pulled up over her small body, tucked under her arms, one of which rested across her chest, the other on her pillow, her delicate hand close to her mouth.<p>

Ohhhh, that mouth. His lips twitched, curling into a smile, as he remembered that gentle mouth on his body. Smiling softly with affection, he watched her sleep. He loved to watch her sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply and slowly, the twitch of her brow as she dreamed, the long dark eyelashes splayed across her cheeks, in direct contract to the paleness of her skin, despite the flush that still remained on them from their love-making.

As he watched, her dreaming became more animated. Her forehead wrinkled, she moaned softly and wiggled under the sheet. The wiggling became tossing and turning and it was clear to Becker that she was gripped by a nightmare. Instinctively he reached for her, drawing her petite, soft body against his larger frame, encircling her in his arms, shh-ing her tenderly. Her struggling and muttering continued for a few moments, before she relaxed, thinking herself now safe and protected from her dreams.

Becker placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He knew she dreamed of anomalies and creatures and death. And it shouldn't be that way. She shouldn't have to endure such things. His face hardened and he tightened his arms around her. She almost died today. His eyebrows drew down, arrowing towards the bridge of his nose. He shouldn't have let that happen. He should have protected her better. He ignored the little voice that told him he didn't let it happen, that he did protect her with his insistence that they all wore the Tac-Vests. He sank down into the depths of his guilt, burying his face in her hair as he did so.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve him, damaged and broken as he was.

At first, she had lifted him. She had lightened his burden, made him see the world through her eyes, see that it wasn't the dark, lonely place he had supposed it to be. And that had been good for him. He had taken great pleasure in being able to see the things around him in the context of her exuberance and optimism. It had given him hope. That's why he had continued with this for as long as he had. He was almost addicted to how she made him feel. Her brightness had illuminated his darkness, for a short while at least.

Now, the darkness in him was back, and it was encroaching on her light, eclipsing the shining star that he depended upon for his warmth, for his salvation, for his absolution. Now, instead of her bringing him out into the sunshine, he was dragging her back into the blackness. Every frown, every harsh word he threw her way, every time he pulled back from her warmth, he saw the sadness in her eyes. The more often it happened, the more it lingered, piercing his heart with regret that he was the cause of such despair in those bright blue orbs.

And it would only get worse, he knew that now. The darker he got, the further he descended into the deep reaches of his own guilt, the more he would drag her down with him, until she was gone, lost forever in the dark, her bright spark consumed by his culpability. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip harshly, needing to feel the pain, however briefly, and the taste of blood in his mouth.

He pulled back, releasing her from his embrace, falling on his back, one of his arms flung across his face. He heard her mumble, a sleepy protest against the sudden cold of his departure. But he ignored her and scrunched up his eyes, breathing in deeply and holding it, only to let it out in one long, loud sigh. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't stand by and watch himself destroy all that he loved about her. He had to end it, and soon, before she disappeared beneath the weight of the guilt he carried around with him. This was his burden, and his alone. It was an integral part of him and it could not be shared. And, therefore, he could not be shared.

He immediately felt more miserable than he ever had in his entire life. More miserable than when Shamsi had died, if that were possible. And it frightened him. No, that was not quite true. Misery didn't frighten him. Misery he was used to. Misery was his friend. No, it was the thought of never being close to her light again that truly scared him. He had found he liked the person he became when she was with him. He smiled more, even laughed occasionally, and this was all because of her. He found pleasure in things that before had held no interest for him. He had begun to notice the joy in the world around him, joy which had always escaped him previously, given the nature of his job.

But he was selfish. He had used her to feel better about himself. He had used her vivacity to keep the darkness at bay. And now, now the darkness was back and he couldn't allow himself to extinguish her light, to consume her joy, and leave her the same empty shell of a person that he had become.

But, to lose her? To push her away? Could he do that? Could he condemn himself to the darkness alone with no hope of rescue? His heart-rate increased along with his fear. Could he act that unselfishly and bear the burden alone once more?

He looked down at her again, his heart heavy. He knew the correct course of action, to save them both, but he was loath to do it. She was brilliant, special, perfect. And he would cause her pain. Deliberately. More guilt to weigh him down. He felt himself sinking, knowing without her he would sink still further. But it was much better for him to drown alone. She would be saved. She might not thank him for it immediately, but she would be grateful in the long run. When she was happy and bright and alive.

Rolling back over to envelop her in the strength of his arms, he pulled her warm body against his once more. He couldn't let her go, not yet. Just one more night of peace, of desire, of love. He was selfish enough to want that.

Jess wiggled back into the warmth of Becker's body, feeling content and safe and loved. She wondered briefly what had disturbed his sleep and squeezed his hand reassuringly, hoping to alleviate his burden somewhat with the strength of her love. She felt him squeeze back, his lips on the top of her head, a quiet mumble into her hair.

"I love you," she whispered back, her words disappearing into the dark night as she drifted back to her slumber.

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><p><strong>AN Poor Jess, if only she knew...**

**Poor Collier, will he be able to deal with his ever-increasing burden?  
><strong>

**And bad Thompson, he really is a very, very naughty man! :-)  
><strong>


	20. The Change in the Game

**A/N Hello to all my lovely readers. First I must apologise to everyone for the extended delay in updating this story. I have been unwell and my recovery has been particularly slow this time. But I hope you can forgive me. Second, I must apologise for this chapter being mostly scene setting with very little action or fluff. Please bear with me. There is plenty more to come and hopefully far more quickly than this chapter appeared! Thirdly, I would very much like to thank in particular Sandyleepotts, Aithion, Phoebenpiper, DrawntoDarkness, Fluff-N-Utter1, LovingThis, Prawn Crackers, Rubytronix, Mijo54 for simply being there xxx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, nor do I make any profit from this story. What I have planned for Becker later on is profit enough for me!**

** The O/Cs are fictional and of my own creation and although the agencies they work for are real, their actions are not an accurate representation of the activities of these agencies. **

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><p>Activity at the ARC had increased dramatically over the last few weeks. Lt. Collier had noted this along with his irritation that the ARC soldiers had been largely excluded. Ever since Commander Thompson had handed over responsibility for the anomaly alerts to Lt. Commander Bob Marshall, only the MI6 teams had been deployed regularly. Heightening Collier's sense of paranoia was the fact that the MI6 teams usually returned unscathed and unperturbed by their missions whilst he and his men suffered many losses in the path of the creatures, leaving his teams injured and traumatised and the heavy weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. He had little contact now with either Commander Thompson or Lt. Carter which left him feeling isolated and neurotic. Marshall was up to something, he was sure, and he was also sure it wasn't beneficial to the ARC. But he was out of the loop, his access to command decisions had been noticeably restricted, although he still received all anomaly co-ordinates which he continued to feed surreptitiously to Lt. Carter, hoping that the information was proving useful to Captain Becker.<p>

What irked Collier most was that he had no idea of Thompson's overall plan. What task has been assigned to the new scientist woman, Dr Tennant? Were they any closer to unlocking the secrets of the Anomaly Opening Device? There was much activity within the scientific teams - the techs were constantly scurrying from one lab to another, furtively studying charts and running scans from the ADD. Scans that had very little to do with the anomalies, active or otherwise.

Collier wished he had paid more attention to Temple or Parker when they were here but he had little interest in technology preferring, as his Captain had, to put his faith and trust in the mechanical workings of his M-80 rifle. That weapon always came first for him, despite the success of the EMDs. Unfortunately, it meant he had little idea what Marshall was up to using the ADD. It was searching for something, almost continuously, its findings periodically logged and then its electronic search resumed. Collier knew it was important but without any conclusive information to report he decided not to concern Lt. Carter with his worries. A decision, he realised much later, he would long to regret.

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><p>Sequestered away in one of the tech labs, Dr Connie Tennant rubbed her eyes, trying to encourage them to focus properly on her task. She'd been here for hours, days, weeks even, with only coffee for company, trying to fathom the workings of the mysterious Anomaly Opening Device. She wasn't convinced about the science of anomalies as it was - it was just a leap too far into science fiction for her to agree that they were a natural occurrence. She was convinced they were man-made, that the device she was studying was somehow responsible, but the technical expertise to re-engineer it was, at the present time, beyond her knowledge. This was something she hated to admit, something she had vehemently denied to Commander Thompson and the reason she was still ensconced in this dully lit laboratory trying to figure out the impossible. Sighing heavily with frustration, she pushed the device aside before resting her head on the desk and succumbing to some much needed rest.<p>

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><p>Matt glared at Becker, his irritation threatening to overwhelm his usually passive demeanour. This was the third anomaly alert in a week that had resulted in no anomaly and no sign of a creature incursion either. He knew it wasn't Becker's fault, knew that the soldier was just as frustrated as he was, but he couldn't shake the feeling they were somehow being set-up, that MI6 were toying with them, and that something Becker had done was the reason behind it.<p>

He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot before scanning the frosty horizon, not really sure what he was looking for. It was beyond frustrating. To know that the anomalies were still occurring and be unable to find any based on the intel provided by Lt. Carter. He couldn't even be sure if they were just late to the co-ordinates and the anomaly had closed or if the anomaly had never existed in the first place. Their equipment was just too basic to determine whether an anomaly had existed or to track anomalies further affield without the assistance from Carter. And it was just too damn cold in January to be running around after shadows.

What if Carter had been discovered?

Making eye contact with Becker, the question passed between the two men. Becker shrugged, his eyes breaking away to reconnoitre the woods beyond their position, straining to see the tiniest evidence of movement, of an MI6 surveillance team. He frowned deeply as he registered nothing unusual and breathed a heavy sigh, his breath clearly visible in the freezing air. It was obvious something was wrong. He just wasn't willing to conclude that Carter had been compromised. That would leave them entirely on their own, leaving him no option but to attempt to re-take the ARC. And he wasn't ready for that possibility - not yet, anyway. They needed to re-think their strategy. He needed to get a message to Carter, a message that only Carter could respond to correctly, to verify that everything at the ARC was still in order.

Matt wasn't convinced by Becker's assertion that only Carter would be able to send the correct response to his question, or that, if he were compromised, the soldier would somehow be able to communicate that to his commanding officer. The very real probability was that, had he been discovered, Carter would have been subjected to various methods of torture, both physical and mental. He didn't want to doubt Lt. Carter's abilities, but the probability that he could function coherently at that level of stress was very slim, in Matt's opinion. Reluctantly, he agreed to let Becker send his message, silently hoping they were not running headlong into an MI6 trap.

The journey back to the house was slow, almost unwilling. The interior of the car was silent, no-one felt like talking. Even Connor found he had little to say. The team was demoralised, verging on the defeated, and no-one knew how best to proceed. Becker gritted his teeth, his mind in overdrive, trying to second guess MI6, trying to work out their next move. Commander Thompson was an odious little man, but apparently he had more imagination than Christine Johnson and so was less easy to predict.

The mood once back at the house did nothing to lift the spirits. Both Emily and Jess were miserable, their usual brightness dulled to almost listlessness. A few weeks ago it had been Christmas. Both girls had desperately wanted to celebrate, to decorate the house, be merry and forget about the anomalies and MI6 for just a few short hours. Their plans had been shot down by Matt and Becker, both of whom had immediately raged about how dangerous their situation was and the fact that none of them could let their guards down for a moment, not even for Christmas. Both Emily and Jess had been visibly shaken by the men's tirade and thoroughly beaten ever since. To their credit, both Matt and Becker felt the guilt of their distress but it did nothing to change their decision. And so Christmas had come and gone as just a normal working day. No-one even dared mention it. And since then, the depression pervading the house persisted, with Emily arguing with Matt at every possible turn and Jess meekly agreeing to stay behind on anomaly alerts, the fight all but gone from her.

Having the weight of the world on his shoulders, and being as self-absorbed as he was, Becker had already concluded that the black cloud that had descended on them all was somehow his fault. His guilt, his darkness had enveloped Jess, just as he had known it would, and it was now stretching out to encompass the rest of the team too.

The only ones who remained unscathed by it all were Connor and Abby. They watched, they listened, they knew the strain their friends were under. But, living alone for a year in the Cretaceous had given the pair the ability to ignore everything but themselves. It had been just the two of them against the world, with the rest of the world pretty much trying to eat them most of the time. They had learnt to rely on each other, to love one another unconditionally, secure in their little bubble of existence. And so they remained now, locked away with each other, not oblivious to everyone, just choosing to filter out anything that would make them lose hope.

But the future of that hope was as bleak as the weather. The team had been split into factions, working against each other instead of together. Emily and Jess, bonded by their disillusionment; Matt and Becker united in the cold, hard reality of the situation, determined that nothing was more important than the mission; and Connor and Abby, snuggled together in their defensive cocoon. The closeness these six people had fought so hard to protect was in grave danger of tearing them apart. MI6 might not need to win, their goal might be handed to them without challenge.

* * *

><p>At the ARC, the ADD continued to scan. Technician Brian Hills of MI6 was manning the station and had just initiated another fake anomaly alert. MI6 had been dispatched but he wasn't watching them. He had no idea if they had reached the fake site or if they were just sat outside in their vehicles eating doughnuts to pass the time. At the thought of doughnuts, his stomach rumbled and he realised how hungry he was. He glanced around the Ops Room, wondering if anyone would notice if he just nipped to the vending machine, when the ADD bleeped frantically at him.<p>

Startled, he swung back round to his screens, almost toppling his latte onto the keyboard in his hurry. As he studied the screens he grinned. And his grin got wider and wider as he realised the ADD had finally triangulated what it had been looking for over the past few weeks. And it was right here, in the ARC.

Commander Thompson and Lt. Commander Marshall were at the Hub within seconds of his call.

"Well?" Thompson demanded, unable to decipher the information displayed on the ADD screens.

"They were very clever. They piggy-backed a signal on top of the normal ARC broadband traffic - of which there are thousands of lines of code - which is why it took the ADD so long to locate it. It looks like ordinary ARC radio noise."

He turned to look at his superiors, expecting them to be grinning as much as he. They glared back at him blankly. What on earth was this jumped up little twerp rabbiting on about? Jones sighed.

"There's a rogue signal being emitted from the ARC. Definitely not one of our guys - and only on days where we have initiated a fake anomaly. The ADD has located the source of that signal."

He paused for dramatic effect - something that Thompson found incredibly frustrating.

"Well?" he barked, angrily.

"Its coming from the guest quarters," announced Jones, triumphantly.

"Carter," snarled Thompson, satisfied now with the results Jones had presented and exalted to know he had been right all along. He turned to Marshall. "Bob, you know what to do."

Marshall nodded and marched purposefully from Ops, demanding back up as he went.

* * *

><p>Carter and Hicks were surprised when the door to the guest quarter they were sequestered in unexpectedly unlocked but both stood to attention as Marshall and his armed guard strode in, filling the small space with too many bodies.<p>

Marshall shook his head at Carter, tutting menacingly. "Well, well, well, Private Carter," he said slowly, trying to bait the younger man by demoting him. "Haven't we been a naughty boy?"

Carter lifted his chin and stared the MI6 Lt. Commander squarely in the eye. "I have no idea what you mean, sir," he declared, his final word spitting with sarcasm.

Marshall smiled lopsidedly. "Search them both!" he ordered and smugly noted the flash of concern in Carter's eyes as his men advanced.

It didn't take them long to locate the smart phone that Carter had been using to communicate with Becker. Nor did it take them long to find the YouTube channel or decipher the password. It was going to take them longer to decode the messages, Marshall realised, but Carter, Hicks and Collier - who had been arrested shortly after the phone's discovery - couldn't hold out under intense MI6 pressure forever. He grinned. Getting the information he needed was going to be fun. He hadn't been allowed to carry out a really good interrogation for far too long.

* * *

><p>Each of the three terrorists had been incarcerated in the Menagerie in separate holding cells. Left there for hours at a time, alone, lights blazing, listening to the sounds of the creatures was just the beginning of Marshall's plan. Sleep deprivation and fear of the unknown were two very powerful tools that he was going to utilise fully, giving Jones the opportunity to dig deep inside the workings of the smart phone, looking for the electronic footprints that Becker must have left behind. Footprints that would inevitably lead to the man himself.<p>

But Marshall was determined to have some fun along the way. He missed the old days of the Cold War, when MI6 had been truly secret and a law unto itself. No-one minded how you acquired information back then. And you certainly didn't have to be accountable to a bunch of nobody MP's for your actions either. Things had changed, and not for the better in his opinion. He laced his fingers and stretched, making the knuckle joints crack satisfyingly. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this.

The door to his holding cell squealed open. Lt. Carter, sat on nothing more than a thin mattress, lifted his head from its resting place on his chest. His eyes were bloodshot, dark black circles from sleep deprivation stood out on his pale skin and he licked his dehydrated, chapped lips uncertainly as Marshall entered. Behind him, three MI6 agents carried in a large container of water, a piece of cloth and a back board. In Marshall's hand, Carter could see cable ties and he swallowed noisily, knowing what was coming. He had trained for this, he was Special Forces after all, but training and reality were two very different things and he had no idea if he was capable of withstanding the torture MI6 had planned for him. He hoped briefly that they were being kinder to Collier and Hicks before he was dragged to his feet, the cloth secured across his mouth and nose, his body tied to the board, feet raised and then the container of freezing cold water dumped unceremoniously over his face. Hicks had known it was coming, but the shock almost caused him to gasp in a breath, one which might have been his last given that it would have been a breath of water, not air. At the last moment, he caught himself and hung onto the air in his lungs until they pulled him upright, coughing and spluttering, only to plunge him back into the icy liquid seconds later.

Marshall didn't ask him anything and Carter gave nothing away. He endured, as he had been trained, mentally chanting name, rank and serial number over and over until Marshall's game ended.

Cutting the cable ties, MI6 threw him back onto his thin mattress and disappeared, leaving Carter gasping for air and bleeding from gouges made by the ties on his wrists and ankles as he had struggled against his restraints. Water boarding was controversial and, as far as he was aware, illegal in Britain. He had survived, this time. But who knew what else Marshall had in store for him? He panted, his eyes closed, and tried to sleep. And this time he succumbed. But it was exhausted and fitful and for the first time in his life, Carter doubted his ability as a soldier. He knew MI6 would break him, it was only a matter of time.

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><p><strong>AN Eeek poor Carter. Please give him some hugs xxx**


	21. The Set Up

**A/N With apologies, I think this is the shortest chapter I have ever written! But it may be the fastest too! :-) However, it came to a natural break and never fear, it is just setting up the next lot of action to come...**

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><p>Tech Brian Hills, though excruciatingly geeky, was proving to be worth his weight in gold, Bob Marshall decided, pondering the report he had been handed an hour ago. He may not yet have deciphered that ridiculous code the traitors were using, but he had discovered something as good, if not better. Marshall had dispatched his surveillance teams on the strength of this intel and now it was just a matter of watching and waiting. One of them would make a mistake. And when they did, he was damned sure he would be ready to capitalise on it. He grinned. If he were right about this, Becker and Anderson were now only secondary targets. He had a bigger fish to fry.<p>

Using Carter's smart phone, he copied one of the previous uploaded codes to the YouTube channel – one which, he hoped, was a set of anomaly co-ordinates. It was a risk, but a calculated one and one he was prepared to venture. He stood and paced his office. The trap was set, now he must wait to catch his prey. But, damn it, he hated waiting!

* * *

><p>Becker frowned as Connor advised the anomaly co-ordinates. He and Matt exchanged at glance.<p>

"That's a site we've been to before," grumbled the soldier.

Connor shrugged off the larger man's concerns.

"It's not unheard of for an anomaly to open in the same place twice – or more. It's happened before. In fact, I'd be surprised if it didn't, given that an anomaly requires a precise combination of elements to occur simultaneously to open in the first place. Which is why they open and close without without warning – a small change in the magnetic field and poof, they're gone. Bit like tornadoes really."

Connor's explanation dried up as he saw Matt's and Becker's expressions.

"Thanks for the science lesson," Becker groused.

"We still have to check it out," stated Matt. "But we'll be cautious, just in case." He paused, weighing his options, knowing that Becker still wanted to get a message to Carter. He decided to split the team.

"Becker, Abby, Emily and I will check out the anomaly site. Emily, you and Becker will act as back-up – take whatever munitions you need. Abby, I want you there in case there's an incursion."

They nodded collectively.

"Connor, take Becker's message to an internet cafe and upload it to Carter. Don't use one you've been to before and keep a low profile – just in case."

"Low profile – check," Connor murmured seriously.

Matt frowned.

"Jess – go with him, keep him out of trouble."

Becker opened his mouth to protest but Matt silenced him with a raised hand. "I want no-one left alone, Becker." His tone brooked no argument from the soldier.

Becker nodded curtly before stalking away to check the appropriate weaponry.

As the team split to prepare quickly for their various tasks, Jess grinned at Matt, her first proper smile for weeks.

"Thank you, Matt. I'm going crazy locked up in this house!" she gushed excitedly.

"I know." Matt was sympathetic to Jess' frustration. He moved towards her and, holding her elbow with his hand, guided her quickly out of sight of the others.

"Jess," he murmured quietly. "I know what day it is." He slipped something surreptitiously into her hand. "While you're out, get yourself something nice – from all of us." He winked at her astonished face.

This time Jess beamed – her first genuine "Jess-smile" since before the Christmas debarcle. She flung her arms around the Team Leader's neck and hugged him fiercely before planting a firm kiss on his cheek. Matt flushed and ducked his head, embarrassed. Then he leant forward and returned the affectionate gesture with a light peck to her forehead mumbling encouragingly, "It will all be over soon, Jess, I promise."

* * *

><p>Becker regarded the exchange from across the room with gritted teeth. From where he stood, Jess was laughing and glowing with pleasure. What had Matt said or done that could make her react in that way? How had he made her share her beautiful smile that he himself hadn't seen for weeks? Jealousy bubbled in his gut, suppressed only by the pain of his blunt fingernails gouging into his palms as his hands tightened into fists.<p>

* * *

><p>The afternoon was a perfect winter's day; frosty and crisp but with bright sunshine that felt warm with the lack of breeze. In the field where the anomaly should be, snowdrops were attempting to push through the frozen grass. But the ARC team barely noticed. They were staring in disbelief at the co-ordinates Connor had given them – into empty space. No anomaly. Again.<p>

"For crying out loud!" yelled Becker, venting his mounting frustration.

Matt sighed heavily and turned about himself, looking at the terrain. At least these co-ordinates were in the centre of a meadow. There was no way MI6 could sneak up on them here. In this bright sunlight, with no long grass or tree cover, the Team Leader could see for miles in all directions. He pivoted 360 degrees then sent his EMD hurtling towards Becker as if it were a rugby ball. Only quick reflexes prevented the weapon from bouncing off the soldier's head. He glared at Matt, hefting the EMD strap across his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go," Matt told him quietly and lead the team in silence back to their waiting vehicle.

Abby and Emily exchanged in one brief glance all their fear and uncertainty about both MI6 and the two men ahead of them. Something had to give – and soon.

* * *

><p>Jess virtually skipped down the busy high street, enjoying her few hours of freedom. The sun was shining, brightening her mood; the shops were buzzing with people still searching for bargains in the sales and nothing cheered Jess more than a little retail therapy. And no disapproving Becker to bring her down.<p>

She stopped skipping as Becker's frown invaded her thoughts. But she pushed him away almost immediately. No, she was not going to let him ruin today for her. It was too important, too special, and he hadn't even remembered!

She pulled Connor along with her enthusiasm – and the fact that she had grabbed his hand.

"Jess! Slow down," he grumbled good naturedly. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying this moment of free rein too. Maybe between them they could find an excuse to make it last longer than it should.

Jess stopped abruptly, squealing with delight.

"Ow!" complained Connor as his arm tugged hard, bringing his forward motion to a sudden halt.

Shoes of all styles and colours glittered behind the glass of the shop front window. Strappy ones, mules, peeptoes, wedges, stilettos and pumps. Bright solid colours, two-tones, crystal encrusted; Jess almost drooled with excitement.

Connor rolled his eyes. Shoes? Really?

Jess turned a pleading face to him. "I have to go in here, Connor. Please?"

Connor sighed. He really didn't have the heart to deny her. What harm could it do? He smiled and nodded, knowing there was an internet cafe he'd used before a few hundred yards further on. He could go there, send his message and meet her back here in no time at all.

Jess squealed again, unable to contain her joy and Connor shook his head at her, a lopsided smirk on his face, showcasing his dimple. It warmed him to see her so happy and he was ridiculously pleased that he had been the one to make her so.

"Don't draw attention to yourself," he admonished gently, his eyes twinkling.

"Stay out of trouble," she retorted with a grin.

They shared a quick hug and then Jess watched Connor saunter down the high street before she hurried inside the shop, determined to try on as many shoes as she could before Connor's return.

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><p>Half an hour later, her phone beeped. She glanced at it distractedly, smiling at Connor's message:<p>

'Thought I'd leave you with the shoes a bit longer. Gone back to house. See you there later. Conn.'

Now it was just her and the shoes – heaven!

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><p>Jess took her time before returning to the house some three hours later, her spirit buoyed by her purchase of the most gorgeous, strappy shoes, electric blue and encrusted with Swarovski crystals. She hoped she might make Becker smirk if that's all she was wearing later on that night. She flushed slightly at the thought of his reaction; his eyes darkening as his pupils dilated, trailing a slow journey down the length of her body to her new sparkly shoes, leaving her skin tingling with anticipation in his wake. And that was before he even touched her. Her whole body reacted to the thought of him touching her; his large, calloused but oh so gentle hands; his soft but firm mouth, sending darts of pleasure through her; his tongue, rough and tender until she came undone. Steady, Jess! She reprimanded herself and, with a schoolgirlish giggle, she pushed open the door to the safe house.<p>

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><p><strong>AN So, if you can keep your minds off the last paragraph - any thoughts about what might happen next? :-)**


	22. The Unexpected Homecoming

**A/N A nice long chapter for you...enjoy. This chapter is dedicated to both SandyLeePotts and Ben Mansfield - who both had birthdays last week! :-)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval, nor do I make any profit from this fic. Right now, Becker is being an arse. Hell, I love that man's arse! ;P**

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><p>Jess tightened her grip on her shopping bag and grinned. She felt buoyant, joyful even. She just knew everything was going to work out all right. It was amazing what a couple of hours Shoe Therapy could do for one's disposition, she mused almost with a delighted squeal. She pushed open the door to the upper floor sitting room, talking nineteen to the dozen.<p>

"Hello everyone. Sorry I've been a while. I'm sure Connor told you, I found some shoes. And, well, you know me, I can't let a good shoe shop go to waste! It was brilliant. I've had a fabulous afternoon, my feet are exhausted!"

She placed her bag carefully on the coffee table and looked up, stopping mid-ramble as she finally noticed the serious expressions on the faces of her four team-mates. All were standing, all were staring at her anxiously. Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened as she glanced from Abby, to Matt, to Emily, and lastly to Becker.

"What?" she asked, her voice now tinged with fear.

"Jessica! Where the hell have you been?" demanded Becker, his voice low and angry.

Jess opened her mouth but no sound came out.

"Jess -," began Matt, quietly.

"Where's Connor?" blurted Abby suddenly, ferociously, moving towards Jess.

The young girl shook her head, not comprehending the question.

"He's here, with you," she ventured, the realisation dawning on her before she had finished that Connor was not amongst those glaring at her.

Abby grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

"No, he's not! He was with you! Now, where is he?"

Startled and a little frightened by the blonde girl's forcefulness, Jess began to babble.

"We found a shoe shop. Connor said he knew there was an internet café nearby, so I could look at the shoes whilst he sent the message -,"

"You split up?" Matt rolled his eyes and ran an exasperated hand through his short hair.

"It was just a few hundred yards – Connor said it was fine," gabbled Jess, now becoming distressed. "Then he sent me a text saying to stay a bit longer with the shoes as he was returning to the house. I guess I got a bit carried away. He's here, he has to be…" Her final sentence was almost a whisper.

"He's not," confirmed Emily, matter-of-factly. "We've checked."

"I -," Jess ran out of words but Abby had only just started.

She tightened her grip on Jess' arms, making the younger girl wince and stare at her bewildered. "Why did you let him go off on his own? You were supposed to keep him out of trouble! How did he know about the internet café?"

"He said he'd been there before -," Jess realised their fatal mistake as soon as she'd said it.

Matt heaved a deep sigh, exchanging a look of concern with Emily.

Abby's hands fell slackly to her sides as all the fight left her. Her legs went to jelly and Emily caught her gently and guided her to an armchair. Abby's face was white, the colour all drained away, her voice a terrified whisper: "MI6 have him. I know it."

Jess covered her mouth with her hand, her disbelief turning to shock, and her wide eyes met Matt's stony face, trying to convey an apology.

Finally, Becker, who had been watching this exchange silently, his brow deeply furrowed, voiced his disappointment.

"For crying out loud, Jessica, you led them right to him! And to us!" He paused as she turned her big blue eyes his way, now welling with tears. He deliberately avoided her gaze and turned to Matt. "We need to be ready to leave – tonight."

Matt nodded and, without another glance at Jess, Becker stalked off to the privacy of their bedroom.

Jess fought with her tears and managed to compose herself. Just.

"I'm really sorry Matt," she said, quietly.

"I know," Matt replied gently. "Look, what's done is done. Now we need to fix it." He inclined his head in the direction Becker had gone. "I'll just go and deal with him, then we'll make plans to sort this out."

Jess placed a firm hand on his arm and lifted her chin, trying to bolster her courage.

"No. This is my mess. I'll deal with it," she told the Team Leader determinedly.

Their eyes met and held and Matt patted the hand on his arm. "You know where I am if you need me," he reassured her.

Jess gave him a small smile and headed towards the bedroom leaving Matt watching her retreating back.

* * *

><p>Becker stood, forehead resting against the wall, eyes closed, thoughts crashing through his mind like freight train carriages. They would have to infiltrate the ARC, that much was clear to him. How he was going to accomplish that was less so. He sighed. It was going to be nigh on impossible to extract Connor from MI6 custody. They could only speculate that he was being held at the ARC, hope that MI6 had taken him for a specific reason and not a random terrorist arrest that would lead to Connor being incarcerated at Paddington Green. Then there was Carter and Collier and Hicks to consider. He suddenly had a violent urge to discover what had become of his most trusted soldiers. Despite the uncertainties, Becker knew they would have to try to gain access to the ARC – and soon.<p>

How had he let it come to this? Jessica. The name stole across his thoughts before he had chance to push it away. He didn't want to think about her right now. His hands clenched into fists. How could she have been so stupid, so careless? She had sacrificed them all for a pair of shoes! Hell, he loved her shoes.

He ground his teeth together, trying to fight the anger that was threatening to overwhelm him. He knew what he had to do; what he should have done a long time ago but instead had given in to the need to cling on to something, someone. Well, now it was time to let go. He required distance to regain his focus – he couldn't allow any distractions if his mission to rescue Connor and the ARC was going to be successful.

He sighed as he heard the bedroom door open and then close again quietly. He knew without turning his head that she stood there, gazing at him expectantly.

"Becker?" she spoke his name softly, as if she realised it wasn't really necessary.

He straightened his spine, clasping his hands behind him at the small of his back and spoke to the wall.

"Have you any idea how foolish you've been today, Jessica?" he admonished, his tone cold.

Jess felt her eyes fill with liquid but resisted the urge to blink the tears down her cheeks.

"Yes, I -," she began, but Becker cut her off.

"Seriously, Jess! Shoe shopping?" His voice held a note of disbelief. "I can't remember how many times we discussed why it wasn't safe to use credit or debit cards in shops! MI6 will be monitoring all our electronic activity. You led them straight to Connor – and now it's only a matter of time before they pinpoint our location. You have placed all our lives at risk!" He was virtually shouting now.

"Becker, I didn't -," Jess tried again but her voice was lost under his.

"Do you understand how grave a mistake this is?" he demanded harshly.

"I know – I -," but again he refused to let her speak.

"That has to be it for me, now, Jessica," he told her, his tone now flat and low.

She stared at him, incomprehension etched across her face, though he couldn't see it as he still addressed the wall. He dug his blunt nails into his palms and ploughed on.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm too distracted. This is my fault, I allowed this to happen. And now I need to focus. I can't do that with you -," he faltered, hoping she understood what he was implying.

"What?" she asked, her voice sounding very small.

He sighed heavily. "It's over, Jessica. Us. You and me. I can't do this anymore."

The flat, distant tone of his voice pierced her heart. Her breath hitched in her throat and she had to place a hand on the back of the armchair beside her to steady herself.

"It's over?" she repeated as a question rather than a statement.

"Yes," confirmed Becker, one simple word to crush her soul.

Jess wanted to fall to her knees, sobbing, begging him to reconsider. Instead, she tightened her grip on the armchair, lifted her chin and prayed for courage.

"But you love me – you said so." She tried very hard not to sound pathetic. She wasn't sure if she achieved it, however.

Becker's reply was blunt and harsh. "I lied."

Jess paused to compose herself. She couldn't understand what she was hearing. She knew he loved her. He had to! But she had to know for sure. She couldn't just let him go without looking in his eyes.

"Becker, turn around." She ventured closer to him, hoping her legs wouldn't fail her and deposit her in a heap on the floor at his feet. "Please. I need to see your face."

Slowly, Becker pivoted but maintained his stiff, military stance. He stared at the wall over the top of Jess' head, deliberately avoiding her face.

"Look at me, Becker," Jess said, quietly.

Briefly, he glanced at her, his eyes vacant, the military mask as impenetrable as Jess had ever seen it. But she was going to try anyway. What they had shared was worth a try.

"Look at me, Becker, and tell me you don't love me."

She held her breath as there was a long pause. Then those distant hazel eyes met hers, the face of the man she loved cold and unforgiving.

"I don't love you, Jessica. I lied to you. I never did." His voice was as distant as his eyes.

Jess' heart leapt out of her chest and crushed itself under Becker's left combat boot. Her shoulders sagged, her hope that once he looked at her he'd be reminded of how much he loved her, lost.

"So, that's it then, is it? It's over?" she whispered, scarcely able to get her voice to work.

Becker turned his back to her once more. "That is my decision, yes. And nothing you do or say will change it," he told the wall bluntly.

Jess suddenly felt anger bubble up, overtaking her despair.

"Your decision?" she demanded. He envisioned her stamping her foot. "I have no say in this?"

"No, you don't," he replied flatly. "That's my decision. It's best for both of us."

"Best for you, you mean," she challenged. There was silence as the solider didn't answer.

Jess sighed, all the fight deserting her. She would not get through to him. Not tonight anyway. But she would leave with her dignity intact. She pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin high, flicking her auburn hair as she did so. Steeling her voice to sound far more confident than she felt, she addressed his back coolly.

"Well, Captain Becker," she paused and sucked in a breath. "I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. That's my decision. And nothing you do or say with ever change that."

Leaving her words hanging in the air she turned and fled from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

* * *

><p>Becker ground his teeth, closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall in front of him. How he had got through that he would never know. He'd hurt her, badly. Of that he was well aware. But it had been necessary. There was nothing else he could have done. But why did his reasons sound so hollow to him now? Surely he didn't need to convince himself?<p>

Feeling nauseated, he decided he needed some air and headed out onto the balcony. He filled his lungs with the frosty air, perversely enjoying the million tiny knife stabs the frigid gas inflicted inside his chest. Reluctantly, letting the air go, he watched his breath cloud in front of him, before leaning onto the balustrade and dropping his head onto his forearms. He had never felt so empty, so alone, so utterly pathetic.

He heard the patio door from the sitting room slide open and Matt's footfall behind him. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to discuss anything right now. Couldn't Matt just give him a few minutes? He waited silently, wondering if Matt was going to stare at him all night. When the Team Leader spoke, in a quiet, gentle tone as if admonishing a small child, he took Becker completely off guard.

"Badly done, Becker, badly done," the Irish lilt just giving the short sentence more meaning.

"Matt -," Becker spun round but only in time to see the patio door slide shut and the curtain pulled across it. He stared at the glass, now made black by the curtain behind it, for a few long minutes before turning back to his view of the city, trying to regain his equilibrium.

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><p>Matt, Emily and Abby sat around the dining table discussing the outcome of several rescue scenarios, trying to keep their minds from the sight of a broken Jess Parker, curled up in one corner of the sofa, cushion hugged to her chest, looking very much as if she were trying to convince everyone she didn't exist.<p>

Becker was immediately aware of her as he re-entered the room but didn't glance at her, focusing instead on his colleagues at the table.

"We need to go tonight," he told them quietly, his mask now firmly in command of his features.

Matt nodded. "Agreed."

Becker looked at the expectant faces of the others, then back at Matt. "Do we have a plan?" he asked the Team Leader.

"Our best chance is just you and I, Becker -," Matt silenced the protests of Emily and Abby with a wave of his hand. "We need you two to stay safe in case anything happens to us. At least with you on the outside, we have a second chance."

Slightly mollified, Emily nodded, but Abby opened her mouth to argue.

"You're emotionally compromised, Abby," Becker told her harshly. "You're no good to us, to Connor, in this state. You'll get us all killed!"

Chastened, Abby closed her mouth, wishing he were wrong but, for once, realising that he knew better than she.

"What shall we do?" Emily asked, knowing that both she and Abby would function better if charged with a meaningful task rather than sat around just waiting. Neither of them was any good at waiting.

"Find a new house, stay safe, take care of Jess," instructed Matt, glancing briefly in the FCO's direction. In the darkened room, she really had melted into the sofa. "If you haven't heard from us in three days, disappear."

"Matt, no!" protested Emily. "We need to help, to be useful!"

Matt touched Emily's hand with his fingertips, allaying her protest, whilst exchanging a futile look with Becker.

The soldier ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

"After a week, if you hear nothing from us, assume the worst. Get Jess to take you to her mother's house in central London and tell her everything."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him, questioningly. He returned Matt's stare and continued: "She's a lawyer, a QC. I don't know if there's a legal way out of this. But, as a last resort, we have to try."

Matt gazed lovingly at Emily, drinking in her warm brown eyes and managing a small smile for the bold, brave woman he loved. "Will you do that for me?" he asked, gently.

She returned his smile with a soft one of her own as she raised her hand to stroke the stubble on his chin affectionately.

"Yes, of course." She leaned forward and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to his lips.

The kiss was over far too quickly for Matt's liking but he understood her discretion as he realised both Abby and Becker had averted their heads, mouth pursed into tight thin lines. Looking at Abby, he was worried about her. He had expected her to protest more than she had, to demand to accompany the mission, to be headstrong and stubborn. But she had given up without a fight, with barely a word, a sign of how deeply the loss of Connor had affected her. He clasped her hand in his, bringing her blue eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, to meet his.

"We will get him back, Abby. I promise," he reassured her as confidently as he could.

Abby nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She snatched back her hand and stood, staring expectantly at the door.

Matt and Becker correctly interpreted this as their dismissal and knew it was time to get packed and go. Emily stood too, moving towards the sofa to check on Jess. But all she found was the cushion that Jess had clung to, now left abandoned on the empty furniture.

"Did anyone see Jess go to bed?" she asked, frowning.

Becker sighed as they all shook their heads. "I'll check," he muttered, moving to the bedroom he had shared with her.

* * *

><p>But she wasn't there. She wasn't in the other bedrooms either, nor the kitchen, nor out on the balcony. Feeling panic rising in his chest, Becker even checked inside the wardrobes, shouting her name, feeling foolish even as he did so.<p>

"She's not here," he stated the obvious as they all regrouped in the sitting room after a thorough search of the house. His mask slipped and for a moment his face looked as white and haunted as Abby's. Grabbing a gun, he was halfway out the front door before Matt and Emily stopped him, hauling him back inside by force.

"Matt! I have to find her!" growled the soldier, angry as the Team Leader wrenched the handgun from his grasp.

Matt shook his 2IC in a rare display of his own anger.

"I know that, Becker! And we will. Chances are she's back at the ARC, with Connor. We go there – we'll find them both!"

Staring each other down, it was several minutes before Becker finally gave way and relaxed his stance, his shoulders slumping, allowing Matt to let him go. Slowly, the soldier nodded his agreement, still struggling to regain his composure as they filed back upstairs to set out the mission and plan contingencies for every possible eventuality.

MI6 lay ahead and no amount of planning would ever be enough…..

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><p><strong>AN So, does Becker not love Jess or is he lying now? And, where is Jess? Will they get Connor back or be captured by MI6? Oh oh oh - what will become of our favourite team?**


	23. The Consequence of Guilt

**A/N With apologies for the long delay in posting. Real life can be so demanding sometimes! Anyway, hope you enjoy - and don't be too harsh on our Jess, remember she's still very young! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval. But I happen to know where Ben Mansfield hangs out at a lido in just his shorts! ;P**

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><p>Jess scrunched her body into the small sofa in the corner of the room. Her legs were drawn up against her torso, a scatter cushion crushed between her knees and her chest as if in an effort to prevent her insides from exiting her body. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the top of her knees. She just couldn't believe Becker had broken up with her. He hadn't even given her the chance to explain!<p>

_It wasn't your fault_, the little voice in her head murmured. _It was Connor's idea and you didn't even –_

She was cut off by Becker's voice, strident and angry, echoing inside her head. _The details don't matter. What matters is Connor is missing and you are to blame!_

She sighed miserably, knowing he was right. She looked up briefly, catching sight of the shoebox on the coffee table and felt nauseous.

The patio door opened and she felt Becker's presence as he entered the room. Lifting her head, she stared at his profile as he crossed the room, the set of his face was hard, the military mask firmly in place. He refused to look at her, she didn't even think he knew she was there, so she pressed herself further into the back of the sofa, wishing she could disappear.

From her dark corner, she watched him approach the others, unable to drag her eyes from him. In a minute, she'd wake up and discover that she was just being silly, that he did love her. She'd be wrapped in his arms safe and content and wait – what?

He was going back to the ARC? Snippets of conversation penetrated her ears, digging its way through her misery and grabbing her attention. She frowned and tried to listen harder. What she heard terrified her. Becker and Matt were going back to the ARC in an attempt to rescue Connor. She bit her lip. It was madness – surely they knew that! If Carter was compromised they had no help from within. Without Connor, they had no access to the ARC lockdown system. And if Thompson was half the man she knew him to be, he would be using Connor as bait for just this very event.

She started to sit up, her mouth opening, ready to protest, to warn against such action. Then shut it again rapidly. As if any of them would listen to her. They all blamed her for this situation, she would be shot down and humiliated further if she joined the discussion. And being dumped by Becker was humiliation enough for one evening. She wasn't sure she could handle any more of his disapproval. But her brain had clicked into gear whether she wanted it to or not. As Field Co-Ordinator, she was trained to identify and plan for every eventuality and no matter which was she looked at it, she knew the plan was doomed to failure. There were just too many variables they couldn't plan for, too little intel on the situation inside the ARC, and too little firepower to successfully pull of an assault against MI6. Becker and Matt would be captured or killed, maybe Connor too, and that would be her fault. No, she couldn't have that on her conscience. She couldn't live with herself without trying to put this right. But what could she do?

The Team were not going to listen to her, not going to take her counsel, she had been dismissed as a liability. She didn't have her ADD, she felt so unsettled without it, and Lester wasn't there to intercede with the Minister on the Team's behalf. What could she do?

She closed her eyes again and thought about Lester. Her boss, irascible, stubborn but as dear to her as her own father. What had happened to him? Where was he?

She lifted her head from her knees, the neurons in her brain now firing with furious activity. Maybe he was the answer. If she could be of no use to the Team, maybe she could help Lester. There was only one person she knew who had the contacts and the political reach to assist her boss. She was a person that Becker had told her categorically must not know the details for fear of putting her life in danger. Yet, suddenly, Jess knew, she just knew her mother could help them, could help Lester. And if Lester was exonerated, then MI6 would be expelled from the ARC, rendering Becker and Matt's dangerous plan unnecessary. She bit her lip in excitement. She could fix this! After all, it was her mistake. It was her responsibility to put it right. _And then maybe Becker would forgive you,_ the little voice whispered as she tried to ignore it.

Glancing at the Team, still deep in planning their assault on the ARC, she knew they would not agree with her. She could almost hear Becker's harsh sarcasm, belittling her idea. And Matt, whilst he would be more generous, more careful with his words, would ultimately deny her anyway. No, she had to do this alone. She ignored the little voice warning her that her mother wouldn't help her if she asked. She would scream and beg if needed. She wasn't above behaving like a 5 year old to get what she wanted. Not when it was this important.

Carefully, silently, she uncurled herself from the sofa, leaving just the cushion behind, and snuck to the bedroom she had shared with Becker. Opening the door, she glanced behind her, satisfied to see that none of the others had noticed her departure.

Grabbing her coat, bag and phone, she wrote a quick note to Matt explaining where she had gone and left it on the small table beside the bed. Opening the patio door, she slipped out onto the fire escape, knowing they would try to stop her if they caught her. As she closed the balcony door, a gust of frosty air rushed into the room, lifting the note from the bedside table and depositing it under the bed where it would remain undiscovered.

At the bottom of the fire escape, Jess shivered. Even in her coat, the evening was cold. Autumn was turning to winter and she could see her breath clouding in front of her as she sighed, wondering where to start. She made her way to the main road, thinking about what Becker would advise her to do, how she should avoid detection by MI6. She shook her head with a wry smile. How was it that man was able to occupy so much of her thoughts, even when he no longer wanted her. But she knew his advice would be right, would get her safely to her mother's house and would help her avoid MI6.

Looking up and down the road, she contemplated hailing a cab. But since she knew she couldn't be sure that the driver wasn't from MI6, she dismissed the idea as soon as she thought it. She had to get to a public place, and quickly, so she turned left and hurried noiselessly towards the tube station, thankful that she had decided to wear her trainers instead of her Jimmi Choos.

The tube station wasn't far and she made the ticket hall without incident. She bought a ticket for Regent's Park with the cash in her bag and, turning her head to avoid the CCTV cameras, she boarded the train with around 10 other people. Unconsciously, she took a seat near a young couple, avoiding the 3 men in hoodies that had entered the carriage behind her, pushing her out of the way and laughing.

She sat, her bag clutched on her knee, her heart pounding, feeling very small, very alone and very exposed. The journey to Regent's Park wouldn't take long, she knew, but that evening, alone and her anxiety increasing, it seemed to take forever.

The carriage emptied out at The Embankment, leaving just Jess and the 3 hooded men behind. Jess bit her lip, instincts now on full alert, the urge to run almost overwhelming as the train moved away from the station. Her fear increased as the men gradually made their way towards her, a seat here, a seat there, closer and closer, until one was sat directly opposite her with the others flanking her on either side. Jess knew she was in trouble. But she was also sure this was not MI6. She lifted her head, attempting to be far braver than she felt. She had faced dinosaurs, terrorists and the security services. She could handle a few thugs, couldn't she?

The young man opposite her grinned salaciously. She couldn't see all of his face, shrouded in his hood, but she could see the glint in his eyes and the twist of his mouth. When he spoke, it was quietly threatening.

"Well, well, well, a pretty girl like you shouldn't be out all alone without some company…" he leant forward as his friends snickered, enjoying the taunting of the defenceless girl.

"You are going to make me very happy tonight, sweetheart." It was a statement, not a question, and the tone of his voice made it clear to Jess that what he was suggesting was as good as inevitable. His friends closed in grinning like hyenas.

Jess gasped as one of the men stroked her hair. The flight instinct was now so strong she shot to her feet, knowing she had to get away. The men crowded round her, laughing and jostling her between them, as if a pod of killer whales playing catch with a baby seal.

Jess knew she mustn't panic, that would simply get her injured, but it was easier said than done. Biting back the urge to scream as it would do her no good in the empty carriage, she desperately tried to remember what Becker had taught her. Summoning all her strength she slammed her heel down onto the instep on one man's foot before lunging her knee into another's crotch. Her knee had more impact as, without her 4 inch heels, she did little damage to the thug's foot. But, with one man doubled over in pain, she saw a small opportunity to escape.

She felt the train begin to slow as it neared the station at Charing Cross and stumbled towards the doors.

"Grab her!" yelled one of the men.

She felt hands clutching at her arms, her back, her hair. She twisted, trying to bat them away. The men surged forward, pushing her against the doors.

Just then, the train lurched to a sudden stop, the doors slid open and Jess's momentum left her in open space. The men held onto nothing but her handbag as Jess tumbled from the carriage, hitting her head hard on the concrete platform. Immediately, other passengers rushed to her aid as the doors to the train closed and it shunted on its way.

The 3 men laughed and rummaged through the young girl's handbag. They were disappointed at having their fun cut short, but pleased with their evening's haul – credit cards, a mobile phone and £300 in cash. Congratulating themselves, they paid no mind to the small body lying unconscious on the platform at Charing Cross Station.

* * *

><p>Behind them, on the station platform, Jess's forehead had begun to bleed. Most passengers had now continued on their way, but one remained, holding a lace-trimmed handkerchief to Jess's injury. Slowly, Jess opened her eyes, struggling to focus. Her head hurt, she was dizzy and she had absolutely no idea where she was.<p>

"Hello there, dear," said a soft, gentle voice. "Here, drink this."

She became aware she was being offered a bottle of water and gratefully took a sip before glancing up at her rescuer.

The passenger was old and lined and vaguely familiar but Jess couldn't place her inside her fuzzy head. She blinked rapidly and tried to sit.

"Careful," murmured the elderly lady. "You've had quite a bump to the head. Rest a moment and then we'll get you to hospital."

Supported by the woman's arms, Jess sat and shook her head hurriedly, instantly regretting it as the world swayed around her. She leant against the woman's tweed-clad shoulder.

"No, no hospital. Promise me, no hospital." She knew it was vitally important but she wasn't quite sure why.

The old lady frowned. She knew this girl. She had seen her on the train before. But she had been with a young man then. She had known all those weeks ago that they had been in trouble, they had never been far from her thoughts as she sat on the train each day, and now this girl had been brought back to her. She felt compelled to discover their story and how she could help them.

"You don't remember me, do you dear?" she asked gently, smiling at Jess's confusion. "We spoke once before when you were with your young man. Where is he, dear?"

Young man? Jess frowned and shook her head.

The older woman continued carefully. "Tall man, dark hair, he looked a little worse for wear when I saw you…" she explained. "You both seemed to be anxious."

Becker. She remembered now. Yes, it must have been Becker.

"He's not my young man," she whispered, dolefully. "Not anymore."

The lady frowned, struggling to believe the love she had seen from him that day had been so short-lived. No, something else had happened to this young couple, she was sure.

"Can you stand?" she asked, her support increasing on Jess's body as the girl nodded and moved to her feet.

"I volunteer in a shelter not far from here," the passenger told her. "There's a first aid kit and a hot cup of tea with your name on it, if you like?"

Jess smiled gratefully at the woman and nodded gingerly as her forehead throbbed.

"What is your name, honey?"

"Jess," she was pretty sure it was Jess, anyway. Her brain was still foggy, there were many details she was struggling to remember.

"Well, Jess, let's get you fixed up at the shelter and then I can help you on your way to wherever you were going." The lady frowned at Jess's pause. "Where were you going?"

Jess stopped, her eyes becoming distant. "I'm not really sure…" she muttered. "I don't remember…"

The lady patted her hand. "Well, a nice cup of tea will fix that, dear. Come along. I'm Betty, by the way, Betty Norton…"

And Jess allowed herself to be led away by the tweed clad passenger with a feather in her hat.

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, what do you think? Dear old lady - or MI6? :D**


	24. The Shelter

**A/N So, its been 19 months since this story was last updated - how many of you still have it on alerts, I wonder? Anyway, updated it is - please don't despair at this chapter though. It is long and is necessary for the story - why will become obvious by the end! I hope you enjoy it and look forward as much as I ever did to hearing your thoughts and reactions.**

**I must make mention of lovingthis, Sandyleepotts, PrawnCrackers, DrawntoDarkness, Cengiz, Aithion, Mijo54, Rubytronix, Phoebenpiper, Fluff-N-Utter1, PrimevalYank, and SveaR to whom this chapter is dedicated. Love you guys xxx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval. This is a not-for-profit Fan Fiction. However, Becker is in my Red Room currently receiving the spanking of his life (eat your heart out Mr Grey!) ;)**

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><p>Jess cradled her hot mug of very sweet tea between her palms, enjoying the warmth that infused into her skin. She had pulled a face when Betty had counted out 6 spoonfuls of sugar into the white, chipped mug and stirred vigorously. Betty had chuckled, unrepentant, stating: "You've had a shock, dear. Really, the glucose will do you good."<p>

Really, it was sickly, like the syrup that certain branded coffee shop chains liked to ruin good coffee with, and after her first sip even the sweet-toothed Jess was loathe to drink it. But Betty had been well intentioned and Lord knows what may have happened to her if the gentle old lady had not intervened, so Jess ploughed on, grimacing with every mouthful.

She reached up and touched her head gingerly. Betty had cleaned and patched up her wound, which, for all its bleeding, had turned out to be fairly superficial. But that didn't stop her head throbbing or her hands from shaking, despite the warmth of the mug between them. But then, Jess wasn't cold; the shelter was surprisingly warm, if a little loud and a little smelly. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.

She was sat at one of a row of long plastic topped tables, by herself as the other patrons of the shelter seemed to be avoiding her. It was a busy night, she surmised, with lots of different people of all ages, races and types. None seemed to be the stereotypical "homeless person" she had always imagined. Deep in thought she unwittingly took a large gulp of her tea and coughed, almost unable to swallow the sickly liquid.

Betty was by her side, gently patting her back. Jess gazed up at her with grateful, watery eyes.

"Thank you," she croaked, ruefully.

Betty smiled. "Refill?" she asked, indicating a portable tea urn on a trolley beside her.

Jess put her hand atop her mug. "No, no, thank you," she muttered quickly, shuddering at the thought and then feeling shame for not being more grateful.

But Betty smiled, completely non-plussed by Jess' refusal. "I'm just going to refill the others," she said, meaning her guests (as she liked to call them). "And then I shall have to warm up the soup in the canteen. But after that, we can sit down and have a proper chat, you and I?"

Although it sounded like a question, Jess got the distinct impression that she wouldn't be allowed to refuse Betty's chat.

Smiling, Jess stood up. "How about I help out for a bit?" she offered and took hold of the tea trolley. "I will organise the refills. That way, you can heat up the soup now and I will help you dish that up too."

Betty beamed at Jess' suggestion. "Thank you, my dear. I knew you were a kind hearted soul!" She patted the younger woman's arm. "And that will mean we can chat sooner too. And I know I've got some chocolate cake stashed somewhere!"

Jess couldn't help but smile and agree that a slice of chocolate cake would be just what she needed.

She gripped the trolley firmly, ready to attend to her new duties, when Betty placed a firm hand on her arm.

"Over there, in the corner," she whispered, indicating the far right hand corner of the room.

Jess had to squint to see what Betty meant because the corner was dimly lit and half obscured by the counter jutting out from the shelter's sparsely furnished kitchen. In the gloom, she just made out a figure. She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, only that the body was hunched up as small as possible in an attempt to go unnoticed. And unnoticed the person would have been, had Betty not pointed them out.

Jess turned quizzical eyes to Betty.

"That's Jo-Jo." Betty whispered. "Very shy, very nervous. Close to your age too, I should think."

Jess raised an eyebrow and Betty patted her hand again. "See if you can coax her out for me? She needs something proper to eat."

Giving Jess and encouraging smile, Betty turned away and headed back to the kitchen, muttering "Now for that soup!"

* * *

><p>Jess stared across the room at the throng of people now in it, suddenly unsure of herself. Grinding her teeth and squaring her shoulders, she pushed the trolley in front of her from table to table, offering the men and women sitting at them more tea to keep out the chill of the night. Most gratefully accepted; some didn't even raise their heads when she approached, too lost in their own misery to notice who refilled their cup.<p>

As she drew closer to the figure in the corner, Jess caught a slight movement in her peripheral vision. She turned her head but the figure hadn't moved. They were still sat, hunched, head bowed, as if they didn't exist.

Jess refilled another cup and, yes, there was the flicker in the corner of her eye again. She turned her head more sharply and this time witnessed the drop of the young girl's head (for it was definitely a young girl, Jess decided) as she tried not to get caught showing an interest in the newcomer. Jess ignored the remaining few tables and headed straight for the dimly lit corner and her furtive observer.

"Hello!" Jess said, brightly. "I'm Jess." She paused and smiled. "Would you like some tea?"

The girl didn't move. She didn't even acknowledge that she had heard Jess' cheery introduction. Faltering slightly, Jess tried again.

"Please have some tea?"

"You're wasting your time, sweetheart!" The voice was loud from across the room. Jess turned her head in the direction of the speaker. A woman in her mid-forties, with shaven hair and numerous facial piercings stared back at her, her expression hard and careworn. "She don't talk to nobody."

The woman grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "She's not even here!"

The disdain in her voice was plain and Jess felt, rather than saw, the girl in the corner flinch. Thankfully, the woman was distracted by another member of her group, so Jess turned her attention back to the gloomy corner.

From the kitchen, Betty beamed as she watched Jess set the tea trolley to one side and slowly and carefully sit herself down near – but not too near – the tightly hunched figure. It was a move Jess had seen Abby perform many times when trying to calm a frightened or agitated creature.

"Slowly, gently," Abby had always said. "Quietly. No loud noises, no sudden movements. Don't startle the creature. And patience, above all, patience. Let the creature come to you."

And so Jess sat, quietly, just breathing slowly and holding a large mug of tea. It didn't take long, just a few minutes, for the girl to lift her head and stare curiously at her new companion. But to Jess, in the silence of that noisy place, it seemed to take an age. But the girl did look up, allowing Jess to see her face clearly for the first time. She was young, very young, no more than 16 years old, Jess guessed. Her face was far too pale, her eyes red and bordered by the deep, dark circles of sleep deprivation. Her dirty blonde hair was matted and pulled forward in such a way as to try and hide her tear stained cheeks.

Jess smiled encouragingly and held out the mug of tea. She had to bite back a wince at the oh so thin arm that eventually reached out, its white fingers trembling as they curled around the proffered mug. Still, the girl didn't speak, but sipped her tea and stared at the wall.

Well, if she didn't want to talk, that was ok. Jess could do all the talking. That was what she did best, after all.

"So, like I said, I'm Jess," she began. "I'm new here. I thought I'd help Betty out by pouring the tea. She rescued me, you see." She paused as the girl turned her head, her eyes now showing signs of some curiosity. Jess took this as a positive step forward and ploughed on. With a small smile, she repeated her encounter with the hooded youths on the Tube, the loss of her handbag and all her money, and then her fall onto the platform resulting in the bang on her head. She proudly indicated the gauze covering the cut on the side of her head.

Unimpressed, Jo-Jo turned away and sighed. Jess felt discouraged but tried again to engage the girl.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, not really expecting an answer. If she hadn't been holding her breath, she probably would have missed the paper-thin reply.

"Jo-Jo," the girl's voice was raspy. "My name's Jo-Jo."

"Jo-Jo," repeated Jess, smiling brightly now. "I like that. I'm pleased to meet you."

Jo-Jo looked warily at her. "Thank you," she murmured. "For the tea."

"Oi! Barbie Girl! We're thirsty over here!" The woman with the piercings stood up and waggled her mug at Jess.

Jess sighed heavily but good-naturedly. Pushing herself up the wall, she reached for the tea trolley before settling a gentle gaze on Jo-Jo. "Want to come with me?" she asked, carefully.

"Nah, happy to stay here, thanks," and Jess nodded as Jo-Jo gave her the reply she had expected.

"Well, if you change your mind and want to listen to more of my ramblings, I'll be just over there." Jess grinned and indicated the row of tables with her head.

Surprisingly, Jo-Jo managed a small smile in return before lowering her head again.

* * *

><p>Jess traversed the room with her tea trolley and refilled the loud woman's mug. The table at which she sat was a temporary home for a diverse collection of people.<p>

"Sit, sit!" entreated a middle aged man, whom she later learned was named Peter. "Please – sit with us! We could use some new stories around here." He smiled at her so warmly that Jess couldn't help but comply.

She told them her story – the abridged version anyway – about how her boyfriend had thrown her out and she had ended up mugged and penniless until rescued by the marvellous Betty and brought here to gather herself. She omitted the dinosaur and MI6 parts. Really, who in their right mind would believe any of that stuff anyway? But her story endeared her to those at the table and somehow they ended up sharing with her far more than they had ever intended. Jess was so open, so generous and kind hearted in her manner that they were all but falling over themselves to tell their stories.

Peter, it turned out, had had an excellent job in the City just 6 years previously. He had a home, a wife and school age children. Then, as a result of the Credit Crunch, his firm made redundancies and his world fell apart. The pay-off didn't last long and, at his age (all of 50, he had scoffed), he found it increasingly difficult to find employment. No-one wanted him so close to retirement age and, had he re-trained for a new career, the starting salary at the bottom of a new ladder would not have covered even half his mortgage payments. So, he fell behind on his payments and the money worries but an added strain on a marriage already pushed to its limit. At home all day, getting under his wife's feet, and clinically depressed, he couldn't really blame her for having had enough. She divorced him and kept the children and the house. He was left with nothing. No job, no family, no home. As a middle aged man with no dependants he wasn't a priority for social services and no-one really seemed to care that he had nowhere to go. So he found a bridge and slept under it. That first night had been the worst moment in his life – he'd even thought about ending it. But it got easier after that.

Jess' jaw dropped open at his off-hand dismissal of his hardship. Peter smiled at her.

"I made a few friends. We look out for each other," he said. "And then I found this place – or rather Betty found me – and I can't regret that, now can I?"

He chuckled at Jess' face. "Don't worry, young lady. Acceptance is better than being angry all the time."

"Hah!" The sudden outburst made Jess jump and slop the tea from her mug.

"You're an idiot, Peter! What the hell do you know about anything, anyway?" challenged the pierced lady.

"Can it, Chuck," demanded a quiet voice from the far end of the table. "We all know your story is far worse than any of ours." The quiet man sighed resignedly.

"Yes, Mick, it really is!" shouted Chuck, angrily.

"Chuck?" questioned Jess, softly. "Is that your name?"

The woman turned her harsh stare on Jess. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

Jess shook her head rapidly. "No, no, not at all. It's just unusual, that's all." She smiled sheepishly. "I haven't heard how you came to be here. I'm happy to listen if you want to tell me."

"Fat lot of good it would do!" spat Chuck, vehemently.

Jess shrugged.

"Give the girl a chance," interjected Peter. "And you love telling it, anyway."

Chuck snarled but Peter just chuckled at her. He leaned towards Jess and whispered in her ear, loud enough for Chuck to overhear him.

"She likes to be tough and angry, but she's alright really."

Chuck snorted in disgust.

"You really want to know?" she challenged Jess, who nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Chuck sighed heavily, as if it was all too much trouble. She rolled up the sleeve of her shirt.

"See that, there?" She jabbed her finger at a spot on her forearm. Amongst the many tattoos that writhed and twisted their way up her arm, Jess could see multiple small round scars marring the pale skin. "That's from cigarettes, that is."

Jess recoiled and Chuck revelled in the shock on her face.

"Been on the streets since I was 18," Chuck continued. "I got into a bad relationship – except I didn't know it was bad at the time. He was so good at first, so lovely." Her voice became somewhat wistful for a moment, remembering the past. Then she slammed her fist onto the table. "He got into drugs! Decided he liked hitting me. You ever been hit so hard you pass out, Barbie Girl?" Chuck demanded harshly.

Jess wanted to say, "Yes, actually I have," but she wisely kept her counsel.

"Then, he started with the cigarettes." Chuck's lips drew a taught, thin line across her face and her complexion grew ashen. "He locked me up. He and his new druggie mates tried to make money off me. Passed me around to anyone who would pay." She stared hard at Jess. "You understand what I'm getting at here?"

She let the sentence hang in the air, enjoying the tears that had sprung up, unwanted, in Jess' eyes.

"I escaped though," Chuck said, proud of her achievement.

"How?" Jess' question was hoarse. She wasn't really sure she wanted to know the answer.

Suddenly Chuck clammed up. Jess caught sight of her eyes before the older woman turned abruptly away and realised that emotion had started to get the better of her.

This woman, after all she had endured, hid behind this tough exterior, burying the emotions down deep inside, unable to cope with anything but anger when they re-surfaced.

_Remind you of anyone? _ a voice in the back of Jess' head nagged.

"She set fire to her room," Mick announced in his quiet manner. "Got all burned down her back too before they got her out."

"Oh!" Jess couldn't help her horrified exclamation. Her hand flew to cover her mouth but it was too late – the sound was out there.

Chuck stared at her. "Don't you pity me, Barbie Girl. Don't you dare!" she snarled. "I'm doing good now. After I got out from the hospital, social services were all over me like a rash. But I don't trust no-one, not no more. I've been on my own now for over 30 years. I have a sleeping bag to call my own and a mug of hot tea every night with these guys. It ain't living but it's better than what I had before, better than what I was."

She stopped abruptly, eyes boring into Jess. "Hang on – you a do-gooder?"

"Now, now, Chuck, leave the poor girl alone," Betty admonished gently, suddenly appearing at Jess' side, coming to her rescue once more. "Soup's ready when you lot are."

Chuck looked suitably chastened and everyone followed Betty towards the kitchen to be given a bowl of hot tomato soup and a small bread roll to dip into it. Jess took her bowl to Jo-Jo, who remained ensconced in her corner. The warm feeling that flooded her with Jo-Jo's quiet but heartfelt "thank you" was more than enough.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Betty snuck Jess into the staff room at the rear of the shelter for the promised slice of chocolate cake.<p>

"It's amazing what you do here, Betty," Jess told her, still shell shocked by what she had seen and heard.

Betty shrugged. "It's not that amazing just to be there for people who are less fortunate. It only takes a little patience, a little kindness – and we all have the capacity for that." Betty smiled but Jess was beginning to wonder if that statement were true – given what she had endured for the past few months, given what the people here had endured for much longer than that.

"What happened to Jo-Jo?" she blurted out suddenly, desperately wanting to know.

Betty sighed, sadly. "Poor Jo-Jo. She's only 16. She was kicked out by her own mother. The awful woman got herself a new boyfriend and caught him paying attention to Jo-Jo one day. Rather than send the boyfriend packing, she threw Jo-Jo out instead." Betty sighed again. "Poor girl couldn't face going into care and a succession of foster homes so she avoided the authorities and ended up here. She has major trust issues – understandably."

Jess nodded, feeling heartbroken. Betty patted Jess' hand, looking pleased.

"But she rather warmed to you, dear."

Jess was startled. "She did?" Her tone rose in pitch as she was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

Betty chuckled. "Yes, dear. I think you're the first person she's spoken to in months." She paused. "I hope when your troubles are over, you will come back and talk to her again."

Jess smiled reassuringly. "I will. I promise."

Betty took her hand in her old, wrinkled one and Jess was taken aback by her strong grip.

"And now we must talk about your young man," she stated gently.

Jess baulked and made to stand up but Betty's hold kept her in her seat.

"Now, Jess, you can tell me what happened. I saw you together on the train – so much love between you."

Jess bit back the tears that were now threatening to fall. She really didn't want to talk about Becker. But Betty's gaze was warm and constant and the words spilled out.

"That train journey feels like a lifetime ago! And, yes, I think he did love me then. We'd only been together a short while – and everything was so mixed up, so much fear, so much pain." She paused, remembering that the fear and pain were not done with yet. "But I made a mistake."

Betty looked sceptical and pursed her lips.

Jess smiled ruefully. "Oh, it was a big one. And one he couldn't forgive. So now I'm on my own. I don't know where he is." _Nor what danger he is in, _the voice in the back of her head helpfully reminded her and she closed her eyes, wishing she was in his arms. For a moment she almost felt them around her, heard the slow, steady beat of his heart, his gentle breathing in her ear.

But when she opened her eyes, she found Betty had pulled her into a hug and was squeezing her tenderly.

"Don't worry, my dear Jess. The look he gave you on that train tells me he will be unable to stay angry with you for long." She lifted Jess' chin with her thumb and wiped away the single tear that coursed down the younger woman's cheek. "He loves you. If you believe nothing else, then believe that."

Betty seemed so sure of herself that Jess managed a small smile. She really couldn't help but like the lady who reminded her so much of her own grandmother.

"Thank you – I will try," she promised in a whisper.

Betty relaxed her hug and stood up, pulling Jess with her. "And now we must get you home to your mother. I have a good friend, Denzel," she announced. "He's a cabbie and he's waiting out the back to take you anywhere you need to go."

She smiled at Jess' astonished face.

"But I have no money – I can't pay him!" Jess cried, now mortified.

"Don't worry, my dear girl. He owes me a good many favours and he knows it!" chuckled Betty.

Jess bit her lip. "I'm not supposed to get a taxi," she murmured, remembering Becker's instructions to remain on public transport.

Betty hugged her again and whispered in her ear. "I can assure you, dear, he is not involved in whatever it is that you are running from. He will bring you to your mother safe and sound."

Jess' eyes welled with grateful tears. "Thank you, Betty, for everything."

Betty took hold of Jess' hand and led her to the waiting taxi. Mick stood outside in the cold alley, lighting a rolled up cigarette. A small mongrel dog huffed at his feet as if chastising his master for his bad habits.

Jess couldn't resist petting the dog for a moment, whilst Betty spoke with Denzel. It responded by jumping up and licking her face repeatedly.

"Down, Timmy!" commanded Mick, quietly but gruffly and the dog instantly obeyed.

Jess turned and clambered into the taxi.

"Take good care of her, Denzel," Betty told the cabbie who tugged his forelock at the elderly lady in acknowledgement.

Before Jess could shut the door, Betty stepped forward.

"Don't give up on your young man, Jess," she insisted. "What I observed on the train that day doesn't disappear overnight. He's very much in love with you. I'm certain of it, dear."

Jess allowed herself a small smile as she shut the door and the taxi pulled out into central London.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, across London, 3 hooded youths were lying face down on the tarmac, wrists in handcuffs behind their backs, having tried to access funds from a stolen credit card. Captain Bob Marshall strode up to the MI6 operative who had intercepted the thieves at the cash point terminal.<p>

"Well, well, well, Miss Parker's handbag," he mused, rummaging through its contents.

"We don't know her! We don't know nothing!" cried one of the now terrified youths – the one with the twisted smile.

"Silence!" commanded his captor, prodding the back of the youth's head with the muzzle of his very large gun.

Marshall smiled grimly. "Take them back to the ARC. We'll find out what they know, if anything, when we get there."

The 3 youths were hauled unceremoniously to their feet and dragged to the waiting MI6 SUVs.

"And if they really don't know anything?" asked his colleague.

"Then we dispose of them." Bob Marshall shrugged as if it was the only course of action he would consider. "Time to go."

* * *

><p><strong>A<strong>/**N Thank you for reading. And, in case you are wondering lovingthis - yes, Timmy the Dog was for you! :D**

**I'm hoping my mojo has returned and that you won't be waiting 19 months for another chapter. Its nearly finished actually so I hope to update soon-ish ;)**

**xxx**


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